


Naomh

by Phenobarbital



Series: Deartháir [3]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Attempt at Realism, Blasphemy, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Derogatory Language, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Issues, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Male Slash, NSFW Art & Images, Religious Content, Shades of Fluff and Smut, Sibling Incest, Takes Place Pre/During/Post Boondock Saints: All Saints Day, relationship dynamics, updated summary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 93,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phenobarbital/pseuds/Phenobarbital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd probably made quite a sight…with only God to bear witness and to damn them eternally…<br/>…for sins committed in a dimly lit hotel room in the early hours of the morning, two brothers, fraternal twins, sharing life blood and saliva and body fluids, a highlight on white bed sheets, flushed white skin, harsh blue ink, blue as blue heated eyes and dark sex mussed hair, sweaty bodies entangled and stark naked, all limbs, splayed legs, white knuckles, sheet burned knees, elbows, damp inner thighs, skin sliding, muscles tensing, grasping and touching and bruising in intimate, secret places...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Boondock Saints.  
> Sub Disclaimer: I do not own any of the music and lyrics used in this story.
> 
> Authors Notes:  
> \- I apologize to any Catholic/Religious readers if the content in this story offends you, it is not intended to.  
> \- I have worked out Rocco's date of death in canon as specifically as possible, it was 27th March according to the movie timeline.  
> \- Story title is pronounced NAY-AV (Translates - Saint)

* * *

  **Prologue**

* * *

 Stones taught me to fly  
Love ‒ it taught me to lie  
Life ‒ it taught me to die...

* * *

They're at the year mark.

Twelve months of living in Ireland.

Connor stood looking at himself in the small, black-rust stained mirror that is hung on the bathroom stone wall, held up by a long nail and a piece of thin rope. He'd just finished taking a bath, which was never relaxing since after heating the water up manually it never stayed hot for very long, so he always had to bathe in a hurry. He knew though, that he should be grateful for how quickly water heated up over a fire place, no matter how unpleasant bathing was.

It wasn't even just about the cold water though, back in Boston he and Murphy took cold showers in their shitty loft more often than not. It was just that in Ireland the weather was _never_ favorable for cold bathes, or showers if they decided to use the one out in the barn.

It was currently early March, so it was the beginning of spring in Ireland and that made it marginally less unpleasant to have to bath in lukewarm water. The weather in Ireland was consistently moderate, winter had been cold but not frigid, and summer would be warm and not sweltering, from what Connor remembered at least, so it was vastly different from Boston. He supposed it was better in some ways. Ireland was better…in _some_ ways.

And in others, it wasn't.

Connor sighed as he ran a hand back through his wet hair, it had grown several inches, long enough after almost a year of not cutting it for him to need to run a comb through it so it didn't knot at the fine ends. If he combed it downward –instead of back as he always did- it would hang just below his eyes at the front and it sat low on his neck in the back, so much so that it dried into a curl under his ears. If he was honest, he _hated_ it.

Even as young boys he and Murphy had always waited expectantly for their monthly haircuts, their mother never had to nag them. Hair tended to get in the way in general, too much maintenance, and he and Murphy had always preferred it short.

But Noah had suggested they stop cutting their hair months ago, he'd said it would offer more of a disguise and the less recognizable they were, eventually they would be able to go into the town nearest to them. If Connor and Murphy had had any objections, and they **had** , they were swallowed at the prospect of being able to leave the boonies for something more like civilization, even if it would just be once in a while.

So they'd taken the advice from Noah, who had been _suggesting_ –always nicely- quite a few things to them as time passed. Connor smirked thinking of how much of an effort the old man had been making to not rub Murphy the wrong way, it was actually amusing how friendly and fatherly he was behaving, although Murphy had described it as ' _fuckin' annoying an' weird_.'

Connor frowned as he brushed his fingers over the growth of his beard, the growing of which had been suggested by Noah as well. Connor really hated it, he'd never been a bodily hairy guy, he'd always had _minimal_ hair, arms, legs and chest, the last of which had grown in since puberty and had kind of stayed a certain way all through his adult life, fitting to his person, or at least he found it to be. He'd always had to shave his face every second day, sometimes not even really needing to, and he'd always just maintained his standard, neatly kept goatee and the hair that lined his jaw.

So the idea of having to let his beard grow in irked him deeply, hence the reason he hadn't managed to yet.

Connor picked up the soap bar on the wash basin and opened the tap, running his hands under the cold water to wet the soap before he lathered it up and applied the soap to the bottom of his face. Connor then picked up the straight razor on the stool beside the basin and he went to work neatening the growth of his beard back into his usual goatee.

He'd let it grow in eventually, just not right then.

Shaking his head as he finished shaving and reopened the tap to rinse away the excess soap, Connor made an absent decision that once he did grow it in, he'd keep the beard trimmed once it got to a certain length, because he refused to end up looking like some old wizard or something. He imagined Murphy would have burst out laughing at the ridiculous image such a thought conjured up, Connor with a long pointy hat, robes and a staff to go along with his stupid long hair and beard. The idea of Murphy laughing made him smile though.

Murphy hadn't been very happy lately, not for the last month or so…not since they'd accepted Noah's other _suggestion_ to remove their 'Saints' possessions from sight, to bury their secret. Neither of them had been angry at the old man, he'd only suggested it after Connor and Murphy had answered his question.

 _'_ _So when will yeh' boys be goin' back te' the states?'_ Noah had asked unobtrusively, since they'd been coming up on a year, which had been their initial agreed upon hiatus.

Murphy had surprisingly been the one to answer, glancing at Connor as they'd both recalled the night they'd spent together months earlier where they'd decided that they were more important to each other than their mission for God was, and Murphy had simply looked at Noah and shook his head once, mumbling,

 _'_ _We're not going back to et'._ '

Connor believed it was probably because Murphy had answered the question that Noah hadn't asked anything further. Noah tended to take Murphy more seriously because Murphy only spoke to Noah when it was absolutely necessary, unlike Connor, who had a pretty average father/son relationship with Noah by that point. They even argued occasionally whereas Murphy and Noah didn't converse enough to ever argue.

Noah hadn't made the suggestion to bury their 'Saints' possessions right away though, again, Connor suspected, because Noah had been making an effort to bridge the gap between himself and Murphy. So it had been a week later when he'd advised Connor and Murphy that if they were really leaving the 'Saints' behind, then they should commit to it.

They'd thought about it after, talked about it and they'd nearly argued about it, because Murphy didn't see how _burying_ their belongings was necessary, whereas Connor thought it would not only make the cottage safer in case anyone ever came sniffing around, but it would also be an act of closure.

Connor averted his eyes from the small mirror and his own somber expression as he stepped back. He was wearing a thick, old woolen towel around his waist and he sat on the cold rim of the small scratched up claw foot tub when he remembered how Murphy had looked at him, frowning and upset, clearly still clinging to their calling despite having committed to Connor. Connor had felt the indecision in his twin in that moment and several times since, but ultimately Murphy had stayed true to his words to Connor and he'd agreed to bury everything, literally.

And so they had, just over a month ago.

They'd gone out to the barn just after dark, having packed _everything_ –their firearms, ammunition, their money, their pea coats, their gloves…even their rosaries, everything that made up the 'Saints' –wrapped in cloths and plastic- into a locked wooden trunk and they'd buried it.

But it was the rosaries that bothered Murphy most and Connor knew it, his twin hadn't wanted to bury those. It had taken two soft reassuring kisses from Connor before Murphy had allowed him to lift the dark brown-red wood rosary from around Murphy's neck and Connor had closed his fist securely around the cross and chain as Murphy had kept his eyes on Connor's the entire time, unhappy but accepting.

Murphy hadn't been properly okay again since they'd put that trunk in the ground.

Connor didn't blame him, it bothered him too, but having been living with the fear of Murphy dying all the months they'd been in New York before coming to Ireland, it made the decision to let the 'Saints' go much easier for him.

There was a knock on the door and Connor glanced at it, knowing it was Noah because Murphy wouldn't knock whether or not Noah was in the cottage. To Noah, they were brothers who had been close all their lives, he saw nothing odd about their generally close behavior. Of course, everything _else_ that wasn't general they kept discreet, as they knew they would have to for the rest of their lives.

"Aye?" he answered as he leaned to the side, dipping his hand into the cool water of the tub under him and pulling the plug to let the shallow bath water drain,

"Supper is ready, let yer' brother know." Noah's voice carried in audibly through the thick wooden door and Connor sniffed as he nodded to himself,

"Aye." He said again, staring at his pale bare feet on the reddish cement floor.

Connor knew that Noah knew where Murphy was, but the man wasn't going to walk all the way out to the barn to get him. Noah had taken to life in Ireland far too well, he led a life without stress, Connor suspected that returning to his homeland to retire from his criminal life had probably been Noah's specific objective after he'd gotten out of prison.

Running into his sons had thrown a spanner into the works for a time but judging by the fact that Noah certainly hadn't had a single objection to the idea of taking a break when Connor and Murphy had told him what they'd decided, he had actually looked relieved, Connor suspected he was right about their Da's intentions.

Connor stood up when the drain made loud suction noises, pulling him from his idle thoughts, and he walked to the door. He exited the small bathroom and walked just a few steps before he slipped into his and Murphy's tiny bedroom to get dressed.

* * *

* * *

 Still a little bit of your ghost, your witness...

* * *

It was only slightly chilly outside, a little windy and there was the ever present threat of rain or drizzle looming over the land. The sun was near setting when Connor stepped out of the back door of the stone house, hopping the three steps down to the ground before he pushed the door shut and started walking to the barn which was about 150 yards from the house.

As he walked he glanced around, unable to ignore how beautiful it was out there, rolling green hills with lush trees and short stone walls in the distance, all under the burned orange and blue hews of the partially cloudy sky, it was picturesque and most definitely something to admire.

Connor walked quickly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his faded dark blue jeans which he wore with an old black T shirt and a pair of scuffed boots. He jogged the last few meters until he reached the barn, walking up the incline to the doors, Connor glanced back to the house out of habit to see if Noah was anywhere to be seen.

It was a paranoid habit, something he and Murphy did when they occasionally went out to the barn to spend time together…time making out, or getting each other off in creative ways that didn't include getting completely naked and fucking, despite how badly Connor _always_ wanted to do just that, and Murphy too.

Connor smiled absently as he opened the large roller door of the barn and stepped inside, thinking of how _different_ –and incredible- things were between himself and Murphy in terms of their romantic relationship. He hated calling it that, it sounded faggy, but calling it an incestuous relationship sounded far worse.

Connor rolled the door closed behind himself and he looked over at the horse stables on the far right side of the large barn, mostly expecting Murphy to be grooming the horses, since he seemed to enjoy doing that when he was moody, but Connor frowned when he didn't see his twin there.

"Murph?" he called out as he walked further inside, looking around the mostly empty barn. It was used for storage of a lot of shit that had been there before they'd arrived in Ireland, and in winter it housed the sheep but in spring and summer the small flock were kept outside in the stocks, where they presently were.

"Murphy, are yeh' here?" Connor was wondering now, since he'd walked more than halfway in and he still didn't spot his twin. Connor huffed, a frown on his face as he ran his hand over his mouth, turning on his heel to leave the barn. But he stopped walking when he heard the click of a lighter.

Connor's confused expression turned into one of annoyance as he turned around again and walked all the way into the back of the barn, stopping when he reached the stacks of hay that were piled high against the wall in the very back.

There he found Murphy, sitting on a double stack and leaning back against the wall of hay, with his jean-clad legs spread out and his eyes closed, his cigarette suspended between his lips as his fingers hovered near to remove it, his other arm was tucked across his chest.

Connor clenched his jaw, pissed off, firstly because Murphy had tried to ignore him and secondly because his twin was smoking whilst sitting on a literal fire hazard,

"The fuck are yeh' doin'?" Connor walked over to him, kicking one of Murphy's booted feet and making Murphy open his eyes and look up at him, "Why the fuck were yeh' ignoring me? Just waitin' fer' me te' walk out an' keep lookin' fer' yeh'?" Connor asked irritably.

Murphy sighed out a cloud of smoke after he removed the cigarette from his lips,

"If I'd been waitin' fer' yeh' te' leave I would've lit my cigarette _after_ yeh' left, cause' yeh'd obviously fuckin' hear et' otherwise…which yeh' did." he said in a listless mumble.

That explanation should have made Connor feel better, because it meant Murphy wasn't trying to avoid him, yet it didn't, because Murphy looked so unhappy. He wore a black T shirt with his dark blue jeans, but being fairer skinned than Connor and sitting there in the darker part of the barn in dull, dark clothing, Murphy looked paler than usual and so tired.

Connor glanced behind himself to the other end of the barn where their belongings were buried and when he looked at Murphy again, his twin was staring at him. They remained like that for a few long seconds, reading one another and all Connor sensed and saw in his twin was melancholy.

Connor sighed as he lowered his gaze, breaking eye contact, he felt a swell of misery in his own chest, seeing Murphy that unhappy and knowing it was because they'd given up the 'Saints', given them up because Connor had wanted to, it hurt him deep down and made him feel guilty.

It also upset him that Murphy could claim to feel one thing, to mean something when he said it and then to act the way he had been recently. How could Murphy not _know_ how much it was fucking with Connor?

Or maybe that was it, maybe Murphy was hoping Connor would give in and want to go back to America if Murphy just kept up being miserable.

Connor thought about being stubborn as he stood there, suddenly feeling cold and wondering how Murphy could _lie_ to him about wanting to be with him, safe there in Ireland, when Murphy had never deceived him in such a way before. It cut deeply and Connor felt betrayed, which was a foreign feeling when it came to Murphy.

Still, he wouldn't keep Murphy somewhere where his twin so obviously didn't want to be, so Connor nodded, jaw clenching and unclenching along with his fists a few times before he looked at Murphy again, and Murphy was still just staring at him, his sad blue eyes narrowed slightly.

Connor swallowed sorely, feeling hurt and upset,

"We'll go back if et'll make yeh' happy…" he said tensely, his throat hurting, "…I said a year an' et's been that long, give or take a few weeks, we'll make plans te' leave tomorrow…" Connor turned to walk away as Murphy's eyes narrowed further and Connor couldn't stand the hurt growing in his chest, "…Da's waitin', the food's done." he remembered to say as he walked away.

* * *

Still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed...

* * *

Connor heard a muffled curse from Murphy as he made his way to the barn door and then he heard the sound of Murphy following him, his boots scuffing the sandy floor of the barn with every quick step. Connor half expected Murphy to shove him or to just grab his shoulder, he expected an argument, Murphy's denial or some sort of insincere explanation for why he'd lied to Connor, said words he didn't mean about things he didn't really want.

But Connor was shocked when not only was he grabbed and turned around by his shoulder, but Murphy shoved him as well, so that his back hit the barn door, making it rattle loudly. Connor was frowning at his twin as Murphy held a hand to his chest, Murphy's cigarette was still in his other hand and his expression stunned Connor –who had opened his mouth to ask what the actual fuck- into silence.

Murphy looked _hurt_.

Connor watched his twin swallow tensely, he felt the mixture of hurt and sadness in their connection, still confusing him, when Murphy leaned in and kissed him. Connor tensed…before he remembered that they were in the barn, far from Noah. He just hadn't been expecting it, whereas other times he expected it because it was always usually planned between them, where, when, how. But not this time…

* * *

Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth...

* * *

Connor's shock faded though and he pressed into the kiss, and the next lightly moist few that followed as Murphy gripped the front of Connor's shirt and curled his fingers into it, gathering the material into his tight fist before Murphy drew back, his intense blue eyes dead set on Connor's when he opened them,

"Yer' a fuckin' idiot…the dumbest fuck at the schupidest times…" Murphy said quietly, sounding annoyed and tired and sad and…

"…what?" Connor frowned, completely lost.

"When, Connor…" Murphy used his fist in Connor's shirt to pull him forward and shove him back with little force into the barn door again, rattling it a second time, "…when are yeh' gonna stop this shit?" he asked, tone more obviously irritated now.

Connor absently licked his lips, tasting Murphy and wanting to kiss his twin again but he frowned deeper and stood off the door, making Murphy let go of his shirt, but he didn't move back, so they stood close, _glaring_ at each other with equal mixes of conflicting emotions, their faces inches apart.

"Stop what shit?" he asked as confused as he felt.

"Doubting me, Connor, stop fuckin' doubting me!" Murphy actually yelled, not too loudly but he actually yelled in Connor's face, which was unusual.

Connor knew then that Murphy was really upset, Murphy was quick to violence when it came to his temper, but he didn't yell, Connor was the one who yelled at people.

Murphy only yelled when he was _really_ upset about something, not angry, but emotionally upset.

* * *

Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt...

* * *

Murphy took a step back, then another as he raised his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag on it before brushing his too long hair to the side, out of his face but it just fell right back into his eyes…because it was so straight and dark and smooth and Connor was guilty of loving to run his fingers through it no matter what length it was.

It was not the time though, to be thinking of running his hands through Murphy's hair, which now framed his face with slightly longer hair that nearly reached his jaw line at the sides of his ears and fell just past his eyes at the front and sat on his neck in the back. Connor sighed as he clenched his eyes shut before reopening them and focusing on Murphy,

"Yeh' say don't doubt yeh', but you haven't been happy a fuckin' day since we buried that shit, Murphy, what the fuck do yeh' _expect_ me te' think?"

Murphy laughed out cigarette smoke, but it wasn't an amused laugh and his eyebrows were drawn together,

"I don't know, Conn, but et' shouldn't be te' think that I don't mean what I say te' yeh'…." He shook his head, looking as betrayed as Connor had felt earlier.

Connor glanced to the side before tilting his head back, jaw clenched as he sighed and then he looked at Murphy again,

"If I'm wrong an' that's not the reason, then what is?"

Murphy visibly swallowed and worried his bottom lip with his tongue before he averted his gaze,

"Et's…." he sniffed, tucking one hand in his pocket as he waved his cigarette in a half arc, "…et's everything." He said shortly, clenching his jaw.

Connor blinked a few times, huffing irritably,

"That's not a fuckin' answer, Murphy…" and it certainly didn't make him feel any better about being a part of whatever was making Murphy so unhappy.

"This place Connor, that house…" he gestured beyond Connor and the barn door, "… **him** , et's him and his _fatherly_ bullshit, et's that we can't go te' church, or to a fuckin' bar. Et's that we didn't celebrate or commemorate Christmas, our birthday, or Saint Paddy's…" he paused and shook his head, "…et's that et's the anniversary of Rocco's death today an' I only remembered an hour ago…" he exhaled loudly, "…I didn't pray on Christmas, or Saint Paddy's…and I nearly fergot te' pray fer' Rocco today." He admitted quietly.

* * *

Still a little hard to say what's going on...

* * *

Connor stared at Murphy, his chest tightening with realization and regret, he too had forgotten all about the anniversary of Rocco's death, he also hadn't cared to celebrate any of the holidays, he rarely thought about church anymore…it was like-

"What the fuck is wrong with us, Connor…?" Murphy said before Connor could finish the thought and they stared at one another. Murphy's cigarette was burning down to the filter as his arm hung limp at his side and he ran his other hand through his hair again, only for the strands to fall forward, irritating Murphy further, his jaw stiffening.

Connor leaned back against the barn door and he moved his jaw from side to side slightly as he stared at the ground, before raising his eyes to Murphy,

"…what do yeh' want, Murphy? We _can't_ go te' church, or bars and everything's different now-…"

Murphy sighed loud enough that Connor cut himself off, watching his twin finish his cigarette before Murphy spoke,

"Aye, et' is different…an' et's only going te' get fuckin' worse…" he was shaking his head.

Connor watched as Murphy dropped his smoke on the dirt floor and crushed it under his boot, not sure whether he should be offended by Murphy describing their situation as being so awful when they still had each other. But his twin's words about not doubting him made Connor force himself not to make the conversation about them, because it wasn't, he needed to believe it.

Connor sighed,

"…how, how the fuck could et' get any worse?" he knew he sounded snappish but he _was_ offended.

Because to Connor being able to be with Murphy alone out there meant so much.

Murphy didn't look at him when he spoke, staring at the shuffling horses instead,

"Can't yeh' see et' Connor…right now, all we have out here is…us…" Murphy glanced at Connor when he said 'us' and Connor raised an eyebrow, agreeing mentally, "…but Noah hasn't gone into town a second time this month, an' et' happened once two months ago as well." He shook his head, "He got uncle Sibeal to do et', te' get supplies…Connor." Murphy said his name as if he'd made his point and he looked at Connor properly now, raising an eyebrow, asking if Connor got what he was trying to tell him.

Connor stepped away from the barn door and walked nearer to his twin, feeling the impulse to touch Murphy, to put his hands on his bare arms, or on his neck, to bring him closer, but Connor fought it because it wasn't the time. He knew what Murphy was trying to say and he had noticed those two incidents but he hadn't overthought it quite as much as Murphy had,

"I know what yer' worrying about…but Noah can't stay in one place fer' such a long time, he gets restless-…"

"He's **old** Connor." Murphy stated, stepping closer so they were just about a foot apart, "Et' could happen, et' could get te' the point where he _never_ leaves us alone." He said quietly, frowning.

Connor couldn't fight the urge that time, he placed his hand on the side of Murphy's neck, their eyes searching one another's,

"So we'll find a way around et', Murph…" he smiled, sadly but lovingly as he slid his hand up so he could brush his thumb over Murphy's chin hair, which was still kept short as well, "…we'll start by growing our hair an' beards out so we can go an' stay in town a few nights a month." Connor raised his hand further up and brushed Murphy's dark, smooth hair away from his frowning forehead and he lowered his voice when he spoke again, "We'll go out fuckin' camping if we have te'." And he meant it.

If Noah did decide to stop going into town altogether, then they'd find a way around it.

Murphy had been clenching his jaw but he stopped when Connor was done talking,

"Fer' the rest of our lives, Connor?" he raised an eyebrow so expressively it openly suggested that he thought Connor was batshit crazy.

Connor shrugged facially before smiling,

"A few years, until we're good an' forgotten an' we can move around more freely, then we'll leave here, find a place in the town or maybe even another city, Ireland happens te' be fairly large yeh' know." He was still speaking lowly, leaning in closer and closer to his twin.

Murphy watched him closely and Connor could see a smile tugging at his lips, subtle and personal, you'd have to be as close as Connor was to notice it. Their foreheads touched lightly together as Connor scraped his fingers through Murphy's hair, down to the nape of his neck, collecting a gentle handful of the length in his fist as their breaths mingled.

* * *

You step a little closer to me  
So close that I can't see what's going on...

* * *

Murphy's hands settled on Connor's waist, clutching at his shirt and Connor knew Murphy wanted to pull him closer, to start something and Christ, Connor wanted it too.

But Noah was waiting at the house with supper and they'd already been out in the barn for a good fifteen minutes, Connor wondered how much time, if any amount at all, might prompt Noah to actually come looking for them.

Usually they went out to the barn when Noah was taking a nap or was preoccupied with something, but right then he was aware of their missing presence.

Connor didn't know if they should take the chance, but he was tempted by the warmth radiating off of Murphy's body, he could smell Murphy's skin, the soap in his hair, his day worn deodorant. Even all mixed in with the smell of smoke, the horses and the barn, Murphy's scent stood out and it made Connor's thoughts of caution somewhat _less._

As Connor turned the idea over in his head of whether to risk Noah coming looking for them or not, Murphy sighed and his grip on Connor's shirt loosened. Murphy brought his arms up so his elbows were rested on Connor's shoulders and he looked straight into Connor's eyes, defeated and down, before he drew himself in to hug Connor, their bodies pressing naturally, closely together as Murphy's arms encircled Connor's neck and shoulders.

Connor felt Murphy sigh against his neck, sounding and feeling –as a secondary sense of listlessness via their connection- as though he was ready to just say fuck it and throw in the towel, because there was nothing they could do to really change their situation.

When they'd lived alone, before the 'Saints', before Noah had shown up, things had been _better_ , except for the fact that they hadn't been together intimately as they were now.

But no matter what the situation or circumstance, Connor hated hearing Murphy sigh like that and he decided that if being together was really all they had anymore, then they needed to make it count. He drew back from the hug, keeping his hands on Murphy's flanks when his twin looked at him before Connor gestured for Murphy to follow him.

Murphy did and Connor led him back to the hay stacks, except further in, to the nearest corner that the haystacks concealed, which was under the attic of the barn and beyond the farthest pillar that held it up. It wasn't their usual spot that they came to, usually they would go up the ladder and use the half of the attic that wasn't used for storage, but right then Connor felt impatient.

"Connor, what are yeh' doin'...?" Murphy was asking as he glanced behind them once they were mostly hidden, looking unsure of what was happening but Connor knew he suspected, because they were connected and he could feel Murphy's subtle anticipation despite his concerns.

Connor glanced behind Murphy before his eyes returned to his gorgeous twin, Murphy's fair skin was almost glowing in the lowlight entering the barn as the sun set and cast shadows over them, and Connor reached out, hooking his fingers in the front of Murphy's jeans before he pulled his twin to him roughly.

Murphy didn't hesitate to engage him, his arms encircling Connor's neck the second their lips met and their bodies pressed tightly together. Despite their mutual concern of being discovered by their father, they smiled into the kiss as if they were two misbehaving, horny teenagers…not caring that what they were doing, what they often did, was an abhorrent sin in the eyes of God and also punishable by law.

Because they were already sinners and criminals, so it made little difference to them.

Connor caught Murphy's bottom lip between his in a slow suckle on their initial kiss and they drew apart slowly, before parting their mouths, tilting their heads and slipping their tongues into each other's mouths with familiar intimacy and desire.

They kissed slowly, every drawback, press of lips, shared breath and stroke of their tongues increased the heat between them, and Connor could feel his affection, desire, love and lust all testing his control as they always did from just kissing Murphy. He gripped two handfuls of Murphy's hair when his twin's hands slid down over his torso until Murphy had one hand on Connor's ass and the other was palming Connor's hard cock through his jeans.

It felt so fucking good that for a minute Connor let Murphy feel him up while he had his way with his twin's pliant mouth, the soft breathy sounds he drew from Murphy while kissing never failed to make him twice as turned on.

But when he felt Murphy's deft fingers beginning to unfasten his belt, Connor ended the kiss with a grin and then he snuck another quick peck to Murphy's parted, wet lips before he removed Murphy's hands from his belt gently,

"What'll et' be, Murph…" he began and Murphy's eyebrow hiked up as Connor played his fingers over his twin's belt, "…would yeh' rather use yer' mouth on me," he leaned in teasingly and Murphy narrowed his eyes when Connor let his mouth linger close but he wouldn't let Murphy land a kiss when he tried to, "…or would yeh' rather I got down on my knees fer' you?" Connor finished his question with a smile when their lips brushed but Connor still didn't let Murphy manage a kiss.

Murphy bit his bottom lip then and Connor's cock throbbed, his body keening with arousal when Murphy made a show of _considering_ which he'd prefer, slowly releasing his lip from between his teeth before licking his lips and looking thoughtfully down between them to Connor's crotch. The devious bastard obviously knew how much it would turn Connor on to know that either one of those options was equally appealing to Murphy.

Fuck.

Connor couldn't evade Murphy's next quick kiss and the slip and tease of his tongue, because Murphy's hand was making a slow slide up the inside of Connor's thigh right then, distracting him just before Murphy asked,

"Why do I have te' pick one, can't I have both?" he asked in a sexy, husky tone, a voice Connor knew fucked with his ability to think with anything but his dick,

"Christ, Murph, yer' making et' hard…"

"Aye, I can feel that…" Murphy said low toned and playfully, cutting Connor off and snickering softly as he cupped a hand over Connor's clothed sex again, eliciting a hitched breath from said twin before Murphy proceeded to tease kisses along Connor's jaw, making Connor shut his eyes briefly and swallow a moan.

Connor took a few seconds before he rasped out,

"…yer' making et' _impossible_ fer' me te' try an' make up fer' my shit attitude…" he mumbled out quickly whilst Murphy rubbed and kissed and breathed and squeezed. Connor was trying to keep his thoughts in order but fuck, Murphy knew how to make him a mess of good feelings, rendering Connor unable to think of anything but his twin's presence, Murphy's eyes, his mouth, his hands, his body, his scent…everything Connor wanted…and wanted…and needed…shit, he could hardly think straight…

Connor made a groan of frustration when Murphy hummed and raised his head so their gazes were level again. They looked at each other for several seconds, breathing each other in, as Murphy's hands made their way back up, sliding over Connor's torso. Connor's shirt was snagged over one hand so that Murphy could smooth his palm over Connor's bare skin, making said twin burn with every kind of want as he waited for Murphy's decision on who would do what.

At that point, Connor was unable to make a decision, he just _wanted_. What exactly he'd get or give was now up to Murphy.

"You want te' make _what_ up te' me?" Connor frowned as a pang of arousal moved through him when he felt Murphy's rough, warm palm caress over his pectoral, over his hardened nipple, "Is et' fer' the fact that yeh' don't believe me when I tell yeh' that…" he spoke against Connor's mouth now, "…I fuckin' love yeh'." Murphy kissed him. And Connor was left trailing after his twin's fleeting lips and tongue when Murphy drew back again, "An' that I want this just as much as you do?" another kiss, a bit longer and with a slow lapping of Murphy's tongue before he drew back from Connor again, his blue eyes having never fully closed as he regarded Connor intensely and closely, "Is that what yeh' want te' make up fer'?"

Fuck, Connor barely remembered to breathe as he raised his eyebrows in the affirmative before he found his voice and he rasped out a quiet 'aye'. Murphy had, over time, developed the skill of turning Connor to putty in his hands, although Connor never confessed it and Murphy never bragged about it, they both knew he could do it.

But Connor had known it first, he'd known it since the very first time Murphy permitted him that kiss, but it was only just a few months ago that Murphy had actually realized it and now he wielded it at the most unfair times.

Murphy's grin turned soft then and his hands became stationary on Connor's chest as they stood inches a part in the gray shadows of the barn, the only audible sounds around them were the horses shifting and the wind and drizzle outside,

"I would have taken a simple 'sorry', yeh' schupid arse…" Murphy smiled now, in that attractive way that was rare these days, showing his teeth, slightly lopsided and so completely adorable. And all the while Murphy's intense, crystalline blue eyes remained fixed to Connor's and all Connor could do was wait, wearing his own dazed smile because he truly loved Murphy and that was a reason to smile at all times, "…but since yer' insisting…" Murphy cocked his eyebrow, being unintentionally sexy as his hands left Connor's skin. Connor heard the sound of Murphy's belt buckle opening before Murphy kissed him once slowly, just their lips pressing together in a perfect soft fit before he drew back,

"…I'll have yeh' on yer' knees." Murphy finished quietly, his zipper opening slowly and cutting into the sound of Connor's deepening, quickening breaths.

Fuck, Connor felt giddy as he grinned at his twin and he placed his hands on Murphy's chest, pushing him backwards, making Murphy have to hold his jeans up until his back hit the wooden wall of the barn,

"Best yeh' stand here, Murph…wouldn't want yeh' falling when I make yeh' come…" Connor pressed Murphy to the wall bodily, pressuring Murphy's hard cock with his thigh between his twin's legs, "…an' come…" Connor took a hold of the waist of Murphy's jeans, smirking at the hitch in Murphy's breath as Connor bit Murphy's bottom lip, mutual waves of the heat and arousal coursing through their bodies, "…an' come." Connor finished in a low whisper right against Murphy's parted lips.

And all Murphy could do was make an inarticulate sound of want as Connor slid down his body into a low crouch. Connor settled easily onto his knees, taking Murphy's jeans and underwear down with him in one slow, smooth move….and before putting his mouth on Murphy's waiting cock, Connor smirked smugly up at his dazed, _putty-like_ twin.

In the end, two could play that game…and Connor was just that much better at it.

* * *

_._..it's not hard to fall  
And I don't wanna lose  
It's not hard to grow  
When you know that you just don't know.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm now on [Tumblr](http://phenobarbitalfiction.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Boondock Saints.  
> Sub Disclaimer: I do not own any of the music and lyrics used in this story.

* * *

We're gonna separate ourselves tonight  
We're always running scared but holding knives…

* * *

Time. It was amazing how time passed…it felt surreal to Murphy how time could feel, in the moment, as if it were moving so slowly and yet actually, so much time was going by.

Not just weeks or months, but years on top of years.

Seven years to be exact.

Seven years of living in Ireland, out in the countryside…with only occasional trips into town or out to the seaside before he and Connor would return to the small stone house where Noah was. Noah, who never went away, never went anywhere anymore, ever, just as Murphy had predicted, what was it? Six years earlier?

Give or take a few months he supposed, considering it was the beginning of August presently and that prediction had been made around Rocco's anniversary, which was in March.

He had to keep reminding himself of dates and events lest he be sucked further into the doldrums of isolation.

Murphy was absently, deftly, rolling tobacco into a piece of filter paper as he watched Connor, who was a few meters away unsaddling his horse after the long, boring day they'd spent taking the sheep out to pasture.

Murphy's own horse was still completely saddled, standing over at the water trough drinking its fill as Murphy prepared a much needed smoke. He licked the strip of the filter paper and then he glanced down at the cigarette, pressing the paper into place before he looked at Connor again with a quiet sigh.

Murphy missed the simplicity of factory cigarettes…like most things in their current lifestyle, purchasing cigarettes had become an expense they didn't need. Tobacco was cheaper after all.

He sighed again and watched as Connor secured the cinches on the saddle before he lifted it up and off his horse, turning around to place it securely over the saddle rack. Connor then brushed his hands over the large animal's middle and removed the bridle to replace it with the halter, which he took a light hold of before leading the horse over to the water trough. Murphy was tempted to sigh a third time.

Connor had adapted to the farm life far easier than Murphy had, that was for sure.

Murphy glanced at his own horse, he'd loosened the cinch and girth but he was falling behind every second he stood there, he still needed to unsaddle, groom the horse and clean the saddle before they could call it a day.

The same tedious process almost every day, a process he'd enjoyed in the beginning but was sick of by then.

Murphy was done rolling his cigarette and he decided to smoke it later, so he slipped it behind his ear along with some of his long hair, before he stood off the open barn door where he'd been leaning. He removed his brown leather jacket next, hanging it beside Connor's on one of the many wall hooks just inside the barn, shaking his head subtly as he did so.

Even smoking wasn't something that could be done at leisure anymore. It hadn't bothered him so much in the beginning, but after years of living this way, so _away_ from everything and without many things, it was a million times more frustrating. Murphy resisted the urge to push his long hair away from his face, because it would just fall forward again. Much like his long beard, his hair was yet another daily frustration. Connor, who had hair and a beard the same length as Murphy's, had once joked that if they let their beards get any longer they could look like wizards.

Connor had regretted making the joke when Murphy hadn't been amused.

But Murphy wasn't amused very often in recent years anyway.

He'd waited until his horse was done drinking water before Murphy set about unsaddling it. Connor had already begun toweling his own horse down as its tail swung from side to side and it drank water. Murphy sighed _again_ , making Connor glance at him over the back of his horse, and Murphy paused in what he was doing, his hands lightly gripping the straps of the stirrups as he held Connor's gaze for a few seconds.

They both felt the same, and they both knew it, but yes, Murphy felt it worse. He was the one who was more restless and unhappy in Ireland, still, he'd sensed it more and more in Connor in recent years.

They needed to leave there…but where to and when were the questions that needed answering.

And what would they be leaving and heading toward…or going _back_ to.

Murphy often wondered if the 'Saints' were still an option for them. Would Connor want to return to that life? Because the desire to feel the satisfaction that came with delivering an evil man was still strong inside of Murphy. The craving for the smell of gun powder, leather and the coppery tang of pennies on his fingers was rife within Murphy and growing by the day, by the second.

Connor also sighed after a minute of staring at one another and then he looked away and continued with what he was doing. Murphy forced his hands to move, to continue what he was doing as well but he couldn't help glancing at Connor as he worked.

He didn't like Connor's long hair…or his long beard, but Murphy supposed he'd gotten used to it as much as he could, just as he'd gotten used to his own. Especially considering that the excessive hair served the purpose of a disguise that had served them relatively well over the years.

It did, however, make kissing Connor far less pleasant and he was sure Connor felt the same way, because although neither of them ever brought it up, they didn't kiss much at all anymore.

And when they did it wasn't like it used to be.

Their kisses had become reserved.

Christ. It made Murphy angry to think about it.

As for sex, well, it happened when they could manage, but not often, not nearly often enough…

He and Connor had settled back into their brotherhood over the years though, their intimate relationship taking a backseat, which felt like a step backwards but the reconnection as brothers was also something Murphy felt was invaluable and precious between them.

And it provided them a way to remain close and in touch, despite not including the sexual elements…which was necessary due to their stagnating circumstances and so they compensated with their twin-ness, something that _nobody_ could take away from them.

Murphy held back yet another sigh as he lifted the saddle off his horse and just then Connor began brushing his horse down to flatten its coat.

It seemed like it wasn't really a day for conversation, they hadn't talked all day and it didn't seem about to change.

And before Murphy could help it, the sigh slipped out as he resigned himself to what he was doing, ignoring the sound of the sheep shuffling and mewling and the steady strokes of the brush Connor was running over his horse.

Murphy just closed himself off to everything…including his connection to Connor.

* * *

I shouldn't laugh but I know I'm a failure in your eyes  
I know it's daft but I guess that I know it deep inside...

* * *

**About a Month Later…**

Murphy walked into his and Connor's shared bedroom, exhausted and smelling like horse and sheep and feeling like shit in his somewhat damp clothes, the thick wool jersey tended to dry awfully slowly. It was irritating, but then after another long day of sheep herding, everything irritated him.

Connor was already in the bedroom, as Murphy had expected, he was just sitting at the foot of his bed with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

Murphy pushed the heavy door closed as quietly as he could, he'd come looking for Connor because Noah was done cooking and he knew Connor had to be as hungry as he was.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, hoping their voices wouldn't carry into the front of the small house, where Noah was waiting, dishing out hot food for them.

Connor sighed before dragging his hands down his face and turning his head to look at Murphy, who truly missed seeing the line of Connor's defined jaw which was hidden by a mass of hair now. But at least Connor's eyes were still bluer than blue and no amount of hair could cover that up.

"Aye, s'pose I am." Connor mumbled, rubbing a hand along his thigh, an old habit that Murphy didn't actually know the purpose of, but had never questioned. Murphy nodded absently, trailing his eyes over Connor's side profile.

They were different after so much time, they had changed…they looked different.

Murphy knew he looked different, he saw it every time he looked at himself in the mirror. Their lifestyles, their manual labor, their diet, the climate, it had all affected the way they looked physically. For one thing, they were both larger in build than they had been in their twenties. Connor's bulk had turned into more defined muscle than Murphy generally managed, as it had always been, but they were both still fit.

Also, they were whiter in complexion, ok, Murphy was pale, Connor was just fair.

And Murphy imagined that under all of their facial hair, they'd look a little different as well.

He was curious to find out.

Time changed people. So did circumstances.

But Murphy knew that deep down, both of them were still the Connor and Murphy they had always been.

They were just trapped there and so they'd adapted.

Murphy's eyes drifted to Connor's arm when his twin started pulling up the left long sleeve of his thick beige wool jersey, revealing the green-blue and red ink of the Celtic cross tattoo on his forearm. Murphy had done the same thing earlier that day, taken a moment to look over his tattoo when they'd been eating a canned lunch out in the pastures.

The cross held so much symbolism, it meant so much in their faith, it meant so much to their cause as the 'Saints'.

Honor, faith, unity, temperance, wisdom….it represented their guidance away from the evils of man.

And yet, he and Connor had fallen into deep sin. Murphy thought about it with raised eyebrows as he averted his gaze from Connor's tattoo, which looked darker against his lightened complexion. They lived with intentional sin every day, they sinned with one another willingly and sought no absolution or forgiveness for it.

But their faith was reinforced, they still loved and believed in God and that the world needed to be rid of malicious evils.

Religion was a conflict for anyone, but especially for them, in the end.

"Do yeh' feel et', Murph?" Connor asked quietly, clenching his fist so the veins in his arm protruded beneath the lines of ink. Murphy looked at his twin again, glancing from the tattoo to Connor's face and he nodded after a few thoughtful seconds, because of course he felt it, he'd known for months now that he and Connor needed to move on,

"Aye, every day." Murphy said quietly, clenching his own fists, resisting the urge to move his unruly hair from his face.

"Boys?!" they both looked to the door when they heard Noah call them from the front of the house.

Then they looked at each other again for a serious moment before Connor stood up, his sleeve dropping to cover his tattoo as they both walked to the door.

* * *

* * *

They were all sitting around the old wooden table at the front of the house as they ate, Connor and Noah sitting opposite one another, Murphy to the corner side of Connor, closer to his twin than to Noah, as usual. It should have been the same as any other night, but it wasn't.

Because fifteen minutes earlier, Connor had finally acknowledged the growing feeling of needing to leave that they had both been experiencing, it had been just below the surface for months now, slowly seeping through until it could not be ignored, until it became an urgent presence in their consciousness. Connor had finally acknowledged that it was _time_ to stop procrastinating, to stop hesitating.

The only thing left undetermined was what their purpose for leaving would be, would they go back to being the 'Saints' or would they remain in retirement and just leave to be alone somewhere?

It was on Murphy's mind as he ate, not even thinking of the taste of the stew as he spooned food into his mouth in between bites of bread. His mind was working, worrying, turning over and trying to figure out what the anxious anticipation constantly weighing in his stomach _meant_. Connor appeared to be bothered by it too, Murphy had glanced over at him and seen the same slight frown on his twin's face along with the hurried, absent eating.

Connor seemed like he was far away, as distracted as Murphy was himself.

Nothing felt comfortable right then, the space around Murphy felt like it was closing in on him. The size of the room was suddenly too small, the smell of wood and smoke and food cooked over an open fire in a caldron burned his nose and the ever present flavor that the metal of the caldron tainted the food with made it hard to swallow.

The thick jersey he wore felt too heavy, smelled too worn, the hair all over his head and face felt itchy…and the feeling of Noah's eyes on him was just plain pissing him off.

Sure, he'd stopped despising the old man a while ago and they talked once in a while, they almost got along when Murphy bothered to try, which was rare, but he didn't need that _look_ right now. Murphy didn't return Noah's glances though, no matter how much they annoyed him, he kept his head down and ploughed through his unappetizing meal as Connor did likewise.

Noah didn't say a word.

Minutes passed as they ate and when Connor was done, Murphy was done only a few seconds later, so they pushed their empty dishes to the side at the same time and Noah continued to watch them. Connor sipped his whiskey as Murphy shifted to get a cigarette he'd rolled earlier out of his jeans pocket along with his lighter.

The cigarette was slightly flat, but he pressed it gently until it rounded out and then he placed it between his lips before lighting it. Murphy inhaled from the cigarette as his eyes fell to the whiskey in his cup, he fidgeted restlessly, turning the cup around and around as he held his cigarette aloft in his other hand, his thoughts slowly drifting to the fact that Connor drank more these days while Murphy smoked twice as much.

It worried Murphy, because their mother –bless her, he missed her so much- was just about an alcoholic, she never went a day without drinking and never went to bed sober, and he hoped Connor hadn't inherited that particular genetic disposition.

He sincerely hoped it was just their circumstances that forced Connor into drinking in order to fall asleep.

But as if to validate Murphy's fear, Connor had just finished the whiskey in his cup and he tapped Murphy's arm, gesturing across the table,

"Pass the bottle, Murph." He mumbled and Murphy clenched his jaw.

This had become an on again, off again pattern for Connor, some nights –bad nights- he'd have more than a few shots and then he'd decide to go to sleep when he felt buzzed. Murphy gave his twin a sidelong glare as he exhaled a stream of smoke and he continued to ignore their father, but for fuck's sake, Noah was still watching them.

Probably more intently now too, because about two weeks earlier this particular scenario had played itself out, with Connor asking Murphy to pass him the whiskey when he'd already had too much…and it had nearly ended with physical violence.

They'd argued, ugly argued, he and Connor, and every second of it had made Murphy sick and sad. He'd called Connor several names, made several accusations and insults about Connor's drinking that he regretted and Connor had sworn him six ways to Sunday and back. Noah had tried to interject and diffuse but Connor had told him to stay the fuck out of it, by that point Murphy and Connor had been face to face and ready to throw punches.

But it had been Murphy who backed down.

Because…well…

…Murphy sighed presently, thinking that it was because he'd _changed_. It was as simple as that.

In the past, Murphy would not have backed down, he would have been the one to throw the first punch. Despite the fact that history demonstrated that whenever they had _real_ fights, Connor always got the better of Murphy, Murphy had always been stubborn enough to take a chance anyway.

But that night two weeks earlier, when Murphy had backed off, it hadn't been about whether or not Connor would best him, even half-drunk probably, more likely actually. No. It had been because Murphy _loved_ the bastard, in the new ways and the old and it had just hurt him to see Connor that way…drunk and angry.

Murphy frowned slightly when Connor didn't ask him again for the bottle, instead he stared at Murphy for a few long seconds before he sighed and pushed his cup aside, and Murphy had to swallow the well of relieved emotions he felt over the fact that Connor had changed too, he was backing down this time…

…because Connor loved Murphy too, in every way, and Connor recognized that it hurt Murphy to see him that way and they didn't want to hurt one another.

Noah continued to watch them, silent and thoughtful.

Murphy took another slow drag on his cigarette just when lights flashed through the half drawn curtains from outside, which meant a car was pulling up. They all knew it could only be Uncle Sibeal, but this would be an unscheduled visit, so they all stood to go outside and Murphy gave Connor an irritated look when his twin picked up Murphy's cup of barely touched whiskey.

Connor made a face at him before he sipped the alcohol, the feeling coming across their connection told Murphy that Connor was insulted, probably because Murphy was fussing over two shots of whiskey when Connor's tolerance was far beyond that. Murphy just shook his head and followed Connor outside after his twin pulled the door open.

* * *

* * *

 It feels like we're ready to crack these days, you and I…

* * *

"Something's happened." Was what Sibeal had said.

Something indeed.

As Murphy and Connor sat ten minutes later, smoking after they'd listened to the story of a _priest_ killer, in that moment Murphy felt the confusion lift and the space that had been closing in around him, all in his head, had cleared…the reason, their purpose, it was once again, as it had been so many years ago, laid out on a silver platter for them.

God was showing them what needed to be done.

The **Saints** were needed.

"A priest…" Murphy said into the lapsed silence as he exhaled smoke, feeling sick at the thought of someone killing a priest, in a church no less. He put his unfinished cigarette out in the ashtray because there was no time to be sitting around and smoking. When he looked at Sibeal, Connor did as well, probably thinking the question that Murphy was going to ask, "…did they release his name?"

Because his name mattered, he'd been a man of God.

Connor sat still beside Murphy, his cigarette burning out as he rested his hands and forearms on the table.

Sibeal spoke hesitantly, looking uncertain about whether to tell them the name while Noah sat staring at the table top, looking deep in thought.

"Kinney." Sibeal said, "Father Douglas McKinney."

Murphy looked at Connor and Connor looked at him, because they recognized the name, they had heard of the man many times when they'd lived in Boston. He had been a good man.

Sibeal asked if they knew him and they nodded, Connor saying that they knew **of** him.

It clicked then, when he and Connor remembered out aloud what the man had done for the Boston community, that they had to go and they had to go right then. Sibeal started to say something, something about _staying put_ and Murphy would have laughed at him, had the situation not been so serious.

Had his blood not been boiling and his mind racing with the need to spill the blood of evil men.

He stood up only a second after Connor and they left the house abruptly, heading straight for the barn where they'd buried the 'Saints'.

* * *

The first thing they'd done was dig up the trunk in which they'd sealed the other sides of themselves. They'd grabbed a lamp and shovels and went to the back of the barn in silent determination, completely in sync with one another, both wanting nothing more than to be _themselves_ again.

Even Connor, especially Connor. Murphy was so relieved, because he would never have left his twin to return as a Saint if Connor hadn't felt the same conviction and need as he did right then, to return to being God's executioners.

Once the trunk was open the first thing Murphy grabbed was his rosary and the first thing Connor grabbed was his gun, they glanced at each other and Murphy smirked at the same time as Connor did, because _fuck,_ they hadn't realized how **badly** they'd wanted and needed this.

They unpacked the trunk, setting everything –coats, gloves, money etc.- onto some crates they'd stacked and Murphy was pulling the cloths off his guns when he heard Connor curse.

He looked up to find Connor holding a handful of his hair he'd pushed back from his face and their eyes locked.

* * *

* * *

Half an hour later they'd both cut their excess hair off with a pair of old garden shears, it was back to their preferred lengths and Murphy felt ridiculously relieved when he was able to run his fingers back through his short, unevenly cut hair. And he felt ridiculously relieved and turned on when he glanced over at Connor, naked, beard shorn and hair cut short, where his twin stood under the cold shower in the barn, washing away their disguise and the years spent in Ireland.

Murphy chewed the inside of his lip as he trailed his eyes over the length of Connor's body, they hardly ever got completely naked around one another anymore, especially since Noah was always home and also the weather was colder that time of year. So Murphy hadn't really had time to appreciate how much more built Connor was now. His eyes lingered on Connor's incomplete tattoo of Jesus on the cross, the top half at least, since the bottom half was on Murphy's back.

It was something they'd started working on months ago in summer and they'd worked on it every day, tattooing each other's backs on the weekends until Autumn crept in and they'd stopped, but both tattoos were nearly complete anyway.

Murphy's gaze moved on, downwards, following some soap suds sliding down his twin's back, along the curve of his spine and into the cleft of his ass and Murphy raised an eyebrow, swallowing slowly as ill-timed heat rose in his body.

Christ, there was too much going on inside his head right then and the idea of fucking Connor was only clamoring for attention along with every other urgent excited thought.

Excited because they were _finally_ leaving Ireland.

Excited because the isolation was over.

Connor glanced over at Murphy right then and Murphy was caught staring, so he cocked an eyebrow at Connor, unashamed, as he moved the shears from palm to palm and damn Connor for smiling at him knowingly before going back to washing himself, it only made Murphy harder inside his jeans.

Murphy inhaled quietly after a little while longer of admiring the view before he turned back to his task with a smile, it was time to get rid of his fucking beard.

* * *

    

* * *

It was just over an hour that they spent in the barn fixing themselves up and preparing their weapons.

But they were finally done, dressed, locked and loaded and Murphy finally felt complete with his rosary on his neck, hidden beneath his shirt and his pea coat that was back on his shoulders, it fit him a little more snug but still perfectly, comfortably.

Before they left the barn, the twins closed up their back packs where they stood on either side of the crates opposite one another, and they gave each other quick once overs. They were wearing similar charcoal black T shirts that had been under their jerseys, along with the jeans they'd had on all day, and finally they wore their pea coats.

Connor lifted the lapel of his coat and sniffed it, scrunching his nose up a bit,

"Doesn't smell too bad…"

"Aye…" Murphy said as he too sniffed his coat, "…s'not even that musty. We did a good thing, sealin' et' up like that in plastic." He smiled slightly, just generally feeling better because their time of being in that place was over.

Connor nodded as well and they looked at one another again.

Murphy felt different, all those years later, all that hair and sheep shit later…and Connor, Connor _looked_ different.

Before Murphy could think too much on it though, Connor had hefted his bag up onto his shoulder and he gestured for Murphy to follow him with a tilt of his head,

"Let's go, Murph." He said just audibly and Murphy grabbed his own bag and followed his twin out of the barn.

* * *

* * *

"…every last mother fucker that had anything te' do with-…" Connor broke off snickering when Murphy punched him stiffly in the arm,

"Shut up, Connor." He warned with a smile-grimace on his face, pointing his finger at Connor, eyes narrowed as his twin continued to laugh at him.

They were standing on the wharf at Cork harbor, it was nearly midnight and it was quiet and empty aside from the other people, workers, travellers, also waiting to board the small freighter, and it was fucking cold out there too. The twins had left the house - and their father- a day earlier and had driven with Sibeal for hours to get to a main city and out of the countryside. They'd booked one room –two single beds and a sleeper couch- in a small guest house under the same fake identities they had used to travel to Ireland years earlier, and they'd stayed there in order to stay out of sight throughout the day. When night fell again they left for the harbor, and however Sibeal had managed to do it the first time, he used the same connections to get them passage and work on a cargo ship going to the states, leaving that night.

All they did was hand over the cash for it and Sibeal took care of the rest.

Presently Murphy glanced around at the other people, hoping the laughter wouldn't draw attention to them as Connor cracked up –as quietly as he could- beside him where they were leaning against a stack of pallets. They wore non-descript clothes to blend in, browns and greys, shirts and thicker jackets with hoods that they had pulled up on their heads, they also wore beanies along with their usual jeans and boots and their minimal luggage and supplies they'd packed with clothes was on the ground at their feet.

Connor was shaking his head now, still grinning and snickering intermittently and Murphy just glared at him before digging through his worn denim jacket for his cigarettes and lighter.

"I never knew…yeh' had such a flare for the dramatic…" Connor was saying quietly, still smiling broadly and Murphy stared at him as he lit up a cigarette. He inhaled from it and took it from between his lips as he stuffed his pack and lighter back into his pocket, exhaling smoke through his nose before he spoke,

"I obviously learned et' from you…" he pointed at Connor, unable to help smiling a bit, "…all yer' fuckin' crazy movie plans and yer' grand threats and monologues that yeh' give te' our targets-…"

"Eh, I only did that once," Connor defended, still grinning as he snatched the cigarette from Murphy's lips just after he'd inhaled from it, "that bastard deserved what he got, the speech an' everything. But yer' right, I've rubbed off on yeh', Murphy." Connor put the cigarette to his lips and exhaled from it.

Murphy watched Connor smoke and ever since they'd shaven, he'd been wanting badly to trail kisses along the visible line of his twin's defined jaw. He blinked away the ill-timed thought –for the umpteenth time in the last 24 hours-, instead thinking back on that particular execution they were talking about, he remembered it with a smirk. That night, Connor had harshly slammed their target into a wall, so that it hurt badly, and with words alone, some colorful insults and plainly stated facts from Connor, the man had started begging for forgiveness and his life. It had been quite a sight, Connor at his most intimidating and dangerous and he'd had his gun shoved half way into the man's mouth all the while, preventing him from forming proper words but his crying and pleading had been obvious anyway.

After he pleaded they'd dropped him to his knees and executed him, tears, pit and pleading notwithstanding.

Connor had been furious because the man had been involved in child trafficking. God, that target had been a real sick fuck and Murphy had enjoyed watching him piss himself as Connor had spoken words of hatred and disgust while letting the man choke on his gun, all the while Noah had been standing by and watching silently, intrigued.

It was rare that Connor became that angry.

Murphy had been turned on despite everything around them at the time.

They'd fucked that night in their NY apartment, because Noah hadn't stuck around after they'd returned home, and it had been so fucking good and hard and sort of angry, like it rarely was and Murphy still wondered how many people in the building heard him come, because he'd been fairly loud when it happened.

He smiled presently, thinking of how afterwards, Connor had asked whether or not he'd been hurt, all his tension and his frustration expelled by that point and he'd kissed Murphy for what felt like an hour.

"What are yeh' thinkin' about?" Connor asked, passing the cigarette back to Murphy.

Murphy glanced up from the ground and then around again, seeing that people had started boarding the ship, before he took the cigarette and finished it off in two quick drags,

"Just thinkin'…"

"No shit, Murph, what about?" Connor asked as he stood off the pallets and leaned down to grab his bags.

Murphy dropped the filter on the ground and crushed it under his boot, he leaned down and picked his half of the luggage up before standing up straight and smirking at Connor,

"Wouldn't yeh' like te' fuckin' know." He said just audibly and then he started walking away.

Connor caught up to him and shoved his shoulder before grabbing it as they walked and squeezing, they glanced at each other,

"Aye, I fuckin' would."

Murphy just laughed quietly as they entered the boarding crowd, ceasing their conversation and Murphy was amused knowing that Connor really did want to know and he wouldn't be able to ask again for a few hours yet.

* * *

* * *

**On the freighter, in transit…**

It was frustrating, _still_ not being able to touch Connor in any way that wasn't brotherly or plutonic even though they were out of Ireland and away from Noah, but he expected that as soon as they touched down on American soil they would remedy that. Because Murphy knew Connor was just as frustrated, he could tell because of their connection, there was a yearning there that affected Murphy the same way it did Connor and occasionally there was a _look_ that Murphy would catch Connor sending his way when they were alone, but on the ship, still unable to do anything.

They were finally out on the open ocean at least and they blended in nicely among the maintenance crew. They would do their menial designated maintenance work during their journey and do their best to remain inconspicuous, as they'd done when they'd gone to Ireland years earlier.

They'd been on the ship for one day and presently, their work day was over and they were standing near the area they were temporarily set up to sleep in, in the ship's berth, both of them smoking, standing side by side. Connor exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned his head back onto the container they were standing against, staring up at the cloudy, inky blue sky,

"What's the first thing yeh' think we should do when we get te' Boston?" Connor asked quietly, breathing a few last trails of smoke out of his nose, scratching at his chest through his comfortably fit white tank shirt.

Murphy was watching Connor sidelong, leaning more on his shoulder against the container and not his back, his cigarette was suspended between his lips and he exhaled smoke through his nose as he inhaled from the cigarette a few times before raising his hand and removing the cigarette from his lips,

"I don't know, maybe get a drink…" he suggested in a mumble, "…we first have te' get from New York te' Boston without getting fuckin' caught." He said more seriously and then raised an eyebrow and looked more directly at Connor. Murphy's eyes absently trailed over his handsome twin's face and the line of his jaw, framed with the neat line of his trim beard, "Do we go straight te' Boston or what?" he asked as quietly as Connor had spoken.

Connor rolled his head to the side to look at Murphy as he made a thoughtful face and then he shrugged, a smile creeping onto his lips as his eyes wandered down the length of Murphy's torso before moving back up and it made Murphy smile around the cigarette he'd just placed between his lips when Connor's gaze lingered on Murphy's mouth,

"I think we'll take a night te' rest." Connor brought his cigarette to his lips and inhaled, finishing it as his eyes drifted to Murphy's, only lingering there for a few seconds before he turned away to look around.

There was a rising noise in the distance, some kind of the nightly activity for the ships workmen was starting up.

"Te' rest, yeh' say…?" Murphy commented with a raised eyebrow, drawing Connor's attention to him again. Said twin smirked and nodded,

"Aye, yeh'll need rest after I'm done making you bite yer' pillow." Connor said lewdly and so fucking sly and quiet that despite the somewhat offensive reference Murphy huffed smoke out of his nose and he coughed when he laughed, completely incredulous because Connor had a positively dirty smile on his face.

It was sexy, infuriating and embarrassing all at once. Sexy because Connor was fucking attractive, infuriating because being called a pillow biter was technically a slur and embarrassing because, Jesus fucking Christ, there were a number of times when Connor had fucked him so hard –and so good- that Murphy had used his pillow –or the sheet, the mattress, even his own fist- for exactly the purpose of biting to silence himself.

He knew his entire face was red as he narrowed his eyes at Connor and clenched his jaw.

"Connor." Murphy stated, tone exceptionally tight and heavily laced with warning.

Connor's dirty smile softened when he saw the look of murderous intent on Murphy's bright red face and he laughed quietly, dropping his cigarette filter and standing off the container wall, glancing around and then stepping closer, but not touching Murphy, who didn't move a muscle.

His angry gaze dead set on Connor.

"I'm sorry, Murph…" Connor was still smiling and Murphy raised an eyebrow at his twin's low, sexy tone, "…but I'm not going te' pretend as if I don't enjoy the sight an' sound of yeh' when I'm utterly and _thoroughly_ …" he lowered his voice to an intimate whisper, "…fucking yer' brains out so good that yeh' can't keep yerself' quiet."

Murphy licked his bottom lip a few times absently, pissed off and turned on all at once, and then he chewed the inside of the same lip as his eyes tracked over Connor's face…and he looked really closely at Connor right then, in a way he'd been avoiding because they'd had no opportunity to get very close yet. But he looked closely now and something occurred to him, something honest and plain as day and intimately, personally appealing.

Murphy's anger slowly drained away and the burn of arousal he'd felt at Connor's dirty words simmered down before Murphy's face settled into a thoughtful and affectionate expression as the words slipped off his tongue before he could stop himself,

"Yeh' look older, Conn." He said softly, his eyes taking in the new age lines of Connor's face, along with how he'd filled out over the years…Connor looked less severe than he did as a younger man.

Still lean, still handsome and roguish…but no longer thin and sharp.

Murphy found he quite liked it.

Connor had changed more than Murphy had and Murphy hadn't noticed until right that minute.

But at Murphy's harmless words, Connor's smile vanished and his entire demeanor turned sour, leaving them standing and staring at each other in tense, unpleasant silence for a few weighted seconds, with wisps of Murphy's forgotten cigarette smoke floating up between them and Connor's expression unreadable but definitely not masking anything good.

Murphy blinked a few times and frowned in honest confusion when Connor's eyes lowered and said twin unnecessarily cleared his throat. Connor turned away from Murphy abruptly then, just when the noise level in the near distance rose again and Murphy felt something from Connor he hadn't in so many years, it came through their link like a punch to the stomach.

Hurt and insecurity.

Murphy hadn't meant to make Connor feel _bad_ , not even jokingly insult as his twin had done to him a minute before by calling him a pillow biter. But before Murphy could say anything, Connor turned around and walked away, disappearing around the corner of the container.

Murphy shook his head, throwing his filter down and crushing it under his boot forcefully before he followed Connor, heading in the direction of the commotion on deck.

* * *

…when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die…

But there's a black chandelier  
It's casting shadows and lies.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *OS – Ordinary Seaman  
> *AB – able seaman

 

* * *

You see the world in black and white  
No colour or light  
You think you'll never get it right  
But you're wrong. You might…

* * *

"Yeh' look older, Conn." Murphy said quietly, thoughtfully and in a quiet tone with no smile, he didn't seem to be joking, it was just a simple, plain, and to Connor, hurtful, observation.

Especially considering the moment Murphy chose to bring it up.

Connor had expected his twin to insult him back, or cuss him out, or punch him or better yet, maybe to talk dirty right back to him. It was something they rarely indulged in and having not had sex in months, Connor was looking for a little fun, just something he could enjoy in the time before he'd get to have Murphy properly alone.

And he hadn't been making it up, he'd seen Murphy stifling moans, mouth wide open or with his teeth clenched, pressed to the mattress or a pillow in an attempt to muffle the sinful, sexy, wanton noises he would make at the height of being excellently fucked.

Christ, the thought alone made Connor ache for it.

But that arousing image in his head and his slow gaze that had been taking in the angry yet flushed appearance of his gorgeous twin was ruined, completely, when Murphy made that honest statement.

Because Connor had noticed it too, he saw it whenever he looked at his reflection since shaving his beard and cutting his hair, he looked different and he felt different physically. And sure, Murphy did too, he'd filled out, toned up more than he'd been years ago before working on a farm every day, but while Murphy had aged, he also hadn't really.

There were a few new subtle lines on his face now that he was more worn and weathered, he looked jaded, mentally aged, emotionally too, but hardly in the physical sense.

Unlike Connor, who looked every single one of their seven fucking years older.

And now Murphy could see it and the first thing Connor wondered was whether Murphy liked or didn't like how much he'd changed and aged. Would Murphy miss the youth Connor had once worn in his smile and in the confident line of his shoulders? Connor knew that he slouched more now, he was heavier, his musculature was responsible for that since he was more built than he'd been in his twenties. He was stronger too but he wasn't _as_ lean and lithe as he'd once been.

Connor wondered if Murphy would miss his younger body, if he'd notice all of those things when they were finally intimately together again…he even worried about whether Murphy would dislike how Connor was no longer tan but closer to Murphy's pale complexion now.

Would everything cave in on itself now? Would that other shoe finally drop?

Would Murphy look at him, really, properly, closely, and decide that he wanted to be celibate again?

Just brothers?

Connor felt tension tighten his chest, his stomach flipped over itself and he looked at the floor, finally looking away from Murphy's contemplative expression. He didn't have anything to say in response, so Connor just looked away and up over the containers when he heard the noise level of the ship workmen rise, it sounded like a good place to find a distraction from what Murphy had just said to him.

So without a word, Connor turned on his heel and he walked away.

He was aware of Murphy's footfalls behind him only seconds later.

* * *

* * *

Romeo, the Mexican fighter, was an unexpected surprise.

He honestly impressed Connor with his skill and speed.

Romeo was quick and cocky and entertaining and he'd served as a good distraction at the time, to keep Connor's mind off of his twin's last words to him. Murphy had been equally entertained by the Mexican who had taken down a guy twice his size and likely his weight, in a friendly fight which all of the workmen had been betting on.

Connor and Murphy had put down bets too, because Romeo with his unapologetically Mexican tattoo, had evaded and monologued and trash talked and just generally looked like he could back up his walk and talk.

After the friendly fight had ended and they had been uncuffing Romeo, who had fought the larger man with no hands, Connor had wordlessly expressed his commendation to the Mexican with regards to his abilities.

Connor hadn't seen any streetwise fighters in the past years living in Ireland, when the twins had managed to go into the town and visit a bar, the bar fights came standard with the local drunks. No one scrapped or fought dirty, rough and violent. In Ireland, you got pissed drunk –and faulty- and then you threw punches and hoped they landed.

Connor and Murphy had never been that way, from when they'd been youngsters they'd been scrappers, getting into fights with kids in school and out, often older than them and mostly larger but sometimes smaller in size than they'd been. The kind of fights where you fought hard and dirty, you tackled, you grappled, you kicked, punched, spit and bit and sucker punched and you _bled_ for your effort.

They'd **loved** it. They'd even mastered it and they had almost always fought as a pair, except when the fights had been one on one. They fought dirty but they weren't cowards.

They'd take on uneven numbers, but they never ganged up on anyone.

And anyway, they won ninety five percent –at least- of all of the fights they'd ever been in as kids and adults. They were proud of it, they were good at it. After all, no one fought like the MacManus brothers did.

That being said, there had been a downside to being scrappers as kids, namely, their mother.

Since none of the other boys ever got dragged back home from the school principals office by their ears or necks, being sentenced to spend a minimum of two weeks helping out with chores in church for their bad behavior.

The priest had known them so well that he'd often had chores lined up for the twins.

It had been good times.

As adults though, it was better to avoid fighting because there was always a possibility of getting charged and locked up if things got out of hand, as it often did when adults, especially men, fought. And sometimes it could be even worse, like the time when the Russians had showed up at Connor and Murphy's loft to kill them after that bar fight at McGinty's…all because Connor had gotten carried away.

Although setting Ivan's ass on fire –literally- was _still_ one of Connor's favorite moments.

Connor really missed Boston, South Boston, because it was an entire city filled with men who fought like they meant it, whether they were any good at it or not.

And Connor knew Murphy missed Boston too, there was no doubt.

Presently, Murphy was standing beside him in the ships holding area where the fights were taking place and Connor glanced at his twin. Murphy looked fine, his eyes were brighter at the sight of some fighting excitement.

Connor guessed that Murphy probably wanted to get in on the fights, to take someone on.

Both of them had spent so much time in Ireland keeping up their strength and fitness with their work alone, that they were rusty, out of practice and what they were seeing, the fighting, messing around and the camaraderie, it was closer to it, closer to what they needed.

But Murphy knew as well as Connor did, that they couldn't draw attention to themselves, so it was the sidelines for them, they had to settle for just being spectators.

Connor glanced over his shoulder when the small Mexican who'd taken their bets on Romeo came over to hand them their winnings,

"Gracias." Connor and Murphy said a second apart as they took the money he held out to each of them.

The Mexican nodded and then was harassed away by a few other men who wanted to collect their money. Connor smirked at the sight of the disgruntled little man before he looked to the next two people who were going to take each other on.

He absently stuffed his winnings into his pocket with the rest of the money he kept on his person for buying food and stuff to drink throughout the day and then he folded his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his arms. Connor was determined to focus on the entrainment while trying not to look at Murphy, who stood just near enough that their bare upper arms were nearly touching, but no closer.

Definitely not conspicuously close.

* * *

* * *

After a few more fights the men had some winding down drinks and then they went their separate ways, tomorrow was another work day and Connor really wanted to get out of his overall before he had to put it on again the next day.

He and Murphy walked back to their small berth on the ship without saying a word, there was tension between them. Connor was still bothered by what had happened earlier and he knew it was bothering Murphy too because there was a dull buzzing at the base of his skull, which usually meant Murphy was annoyed or irritable.

Once they were inside their temporary lodgings, Connor realized that despite the lack of overall privacy, they were alone again, relatively far from where the next people were set up to sleep, so if Murphy wanted to have a hushed conversation or argument, then they could.

He prepared himself for it as he walked over to his one of the two sleeping places that he and Murphy had setup, Murphy's a makeshift bunk, Connor's a hammock, which he sat down on, beginning to unlace his boots before he'd change into his jeans and a shirt and go to sleep. It was hard to sleep on a lit up ship, since Connor –and Murphy too- had become so used to the dark of the countryside at night, because when indoors with every flame or light source out, it was pitch black, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face unless the moon was out and really bright.

After seven years of sleeping in that kind of pitch blackness, with such eerie silence too, trying to fall asleep with the glaring high beam lights that lit up every part of the ship was tough and Connor just about hated it, because being tired made everything else feel so much worse. The tedious work, the never ending smell of sea water, the ever present hum of the machinery on the ship itself…the fact that Murphy was a meter away when they slept in their separate places and Connor couldn't touch him, kiss him or even properly talk to him about anything intimately or occupationally personal.

Connor sighed as he pushed his work boots aside and untied the sleeves of his overalls from around his waist, his thoughts drifted to the hot shower water he had to look forward to in the communal bathroom of the ship in the morning and it made going to bed chilly, sweaty and moody seem a little less fucked up than it was.

It was amazing to him how much Murphy's words had upset him, Connor felt stupid, felt like a little girl being offended by a mean thing a boy she liked had said to her.

Wasn't it basically just the same? Ugh.

Connor just felt like Murphy had been pointing out a _flaw_ that he'd only just realized was there and now Connor was unsure of whether he was still good –looking- enough, doubting himself like some silly little bitch. He clenched his jaw as he stood up and dropped his overalls, stepping out of them, which left him in a pair of boxers and the white, dirty tank shirt he wore all day, the overalls and shirt were part of the standard ship's maintenance work crews uniform.

Connor glanced over at Murphy, who was lighting a cigarette while sitting on a stool near the small radio they'd purchased on board. Said radio was crackling in and out of frequencies, meaning something was interfering with the ship's transmission. Connor ended up watching Murphy lick his lips once after he'd removed the lit cigarette from his mouth and then he continued watching as Murphy absently made smoke rings while he leaned his cigarette hand on the table and began fiddling with the radio using his other.

Connor got _stuck_ staring because Murphy was gorgeous, so he couldn't help it sometimes…and also, he noticed that Murphy looked upset. And with Murphy's own physical changes over the years, being upset made him appear truly angry instead of petulant like it used to back in Boston. Back when Murphy's youth made him seem a little feral and he was prone to pouting when he got mad. He was more composed as well, more in control of his emotions…Murphy had changed too, not as much as Connor had _physically_ , but he definitely had in the way he behaved.

Connor finally made himself look away from his distracted twin as he pulled the grease stained white tank shirt off his torso, hunching his shoulders as he'd become accustomed too after living such a dull and isolated life for so long, and then Connor leaned over to pick up his half folded, worn blue jeans from on top of a nearby chair.

Connor pulled the jeans on and then considered sleeping shirtless as he fastened the buttons, sniffing and cuffing a hand through his untidy brown hair, he tried to figure out how cold he might get when it got even later. As he ran his hand down the back of his neck, Connor felt a cold breeze come up, making him suppress a shiver and he quickly decided to put on a T shirt. He walked in the general direction of Murphy, but he stopped before he reached the open exit of their berth because that's where their clothing luggage was placed.

Connor crouched down and dug through a random bag, it might have been his but he and Murphy had some identical and _very close_ to identical clothing, so he didn't know for sure. But it was late and he was tired and upset, so he didn't care whose gray shirt it was, he just pulled it out of the bag.

Connor stood up, shaking the folded shirt out and then picking at the hem to open it up so he could pull it on but he stopped his movements when Murphy came to stand in front of him. Connor was prepared for a staring contest, but when he looked at his twin's eyes, he found Murphy was staring at his bare chest.

Connor suddenly felt ten times more self-conscious of his pasty complexion and tired posture and he pulled the shirt over his head with abrupt, quick movements, not meeting Murphy's eyes again as he adjusted it to cover his torso. Connor gave Murphy a brief pissed off look, their blue eyes meeting for only a few seconds and Murphy's curious, annoyed expression would likely keep Connor up worse than the fucking ship lights that night.

Working his jaw irritably, Connor turned away and walked back to his hammock to go to sleep.

Murphy made no move to stop him or start an argument or conversation and it was only once Connor was lying in his hammock with his back facing Murphy's general direction…that he realized he could smell Murphy quite strongly…because he was wearing Murphy's shirt.

Shit.

Connor frowned sadly and inhaled absently and without being aware of it… he drifted to sleep quicker than he had in many nights past.

* * *

 

* * *

The sky could fall, could fall on me  
The parting of the sea…

* * *

* * *

The following day had been hot and filled with maintenance work.

Connor was exhausted by the time the work day was finally over, he'd been hoisting and buffing and painting and scraping all day. Connor couldn't say he missed the sheep shit or the damp weather of Ireland, but he certainly didn't favor the salty, dry air and the corroded metal he had to work on all day.

It was just about sun down when Connor finished eating his vegetable stewed meal out of a can, something he'd done many times in Ireland when they were out taking the sheep to pasture, so that was familiar enough. Murphy had finished eating a minute earlier, his empty can was set down on the floor beside him where he sat leaning back against the stationary reach stacker CAT.

Murphy looked at Connor right then as he took his cigarette off his ear, probably having sensed Connor watching him. And Connor didn't look away immediately, tired of playing the avoidance game, he just blinked lazily at Murphy and then noisily cleaned his teeth with his tongue as he pushed his can aside to be thrown out later, then he stood up from the stool he was sitting on and stretched.

He heard the clicking of a lighter as Murphy lit up his cigarette and Connor absently ran his work calloused hands over the front of his dirty white work shirt before he reached into his pocket, beneath the tied off sleeves of the overalls, to retrieve the lone cigarette he'd stashed there earlier.

Connor had misplaced his lighter the day before, so he and Murphy had been sharing. But Connor had used other peoples lighters throughout the day so far, except now he had no choice but to ask his twin, so he approached Murphy but didn't stand too close,

"Toss me the lighter, would yeh', Murph…?" he spoke as neutrally as he could, holding his free hand palm up and relaxed, ready to catch.

He and Murphy still hadn't talked about or even mentioned what happened the previous day, about what was said and it surprised Connor that Murphy hadn't brought it up yet. Usually Murphy was the one to confront Connor about a problem, but then, they didn't exactly have the privacy to hash out any personal gripes there on ship. Connor hoped though, that it wasn't just because Murphy didn't care if things between them were tense.

He knew he shouldn't think that way, Murphy had gotten angry at him on several occasions in the past when he'd doubted his twin's feelings, but Connor couldn't help it, Murphy's words about 'looking _older'_ had been left hanging between them without any explanatory context and it was bothering him.

Murphy tossed Connor the lighter as asked and he kept his eyes on Connor as he exhaled a stream of smoke. Connor caught the lighter, flipped the lid of the Zippo and brought the flame to the cigarette already placed between his lips, holding Murphy's gaze…a part of him was suddenly wanting to provoke Murphy into talking.

Murphy broke eye contact as he ran a hand back through his short, dark hair, untidying it before he scratched the side of his neck and ashed his cigarette into the empty food can next to him,

"We'll be in New York in another two days..." Murphy mumbled, a neutral conversation starter.

It wasn't what Connor wanted to talk about, but he supposed there was still a lot else that needed discussing too,

"Aye…" he took two quick drags on his cigarette and pulled the stool nearest to him closer so he could sit down, "…we'll be ready." Connor added, glancing at their bags and belongings sort of left all over the place.

Murphy nodded and then did something he rarely did anymore, he worried his tongue over his bottom lip a few times. The lack of the habit had been a change in Murphy that had happened over time and was partly due to the beard he'd grown over the years. But on top of that, Murphy also didn't fidget or get as restless as he used to, he was far more patient in recent years. Connor supposed that living and working where they had would force anyone to be patient, because everything moved so slowly and was so unchanging.

Mundane.

"Yeh' want me te' work on yer' tattoo later?" Murphy changed the subject, rolling his cigarette between his fingers and sniffing as he stared at the floor between his bent up legs, his booted feet were planted flat on the floor and his elbows rested on his knees.

Connor sniffed as well and tapped his ash off into the palm of his other hand before bringing his cigarette to his lips and inhaling from it slowly. He shrugged facially as he held the smoke in for a few seconds and then exhaled it, considering whether he should bring it up himself and just ask Murphy if he'd meant anything negative by pointing out that Connor looked older.

But after some internal deliberation, ultimately Connor found that he didn't want to be the one to bring it up,

"S'pose yeh' could, but not tonight, tomorrow'd be better…" he decided, going over a mental list of things they needed to prepare before they reached land, "I need te' clean the pennies tonight." He said when he remembered, finishing his cigarette off.

Murphy raised his eyebrows and nodded,

"Okay, tomorrow then."

There was a moment of silence that followed, in which Connor stood up and walked over to Murphy. He crouched down beside his twin and didn't look at Murphy as he dropped his filter and then dusted his ash into the empty food can that held Murphy's ash and a plastic disposable spoon.

He was about to stand up when Murphy spoke,

"Conn…"

Connor looked at Murphy while crouching there,

"Aye?" he forced himself to sound calm and detached.

He often forgot that Murphy could read his eyes and feel his own feelings almost as clearly as Connor experienced them, but sometimes he got lucky, sometimes Murphy didn't pick up on anything too specific and Connor could get away with it.

"Are yeh' okay?" Murphy asked quietly as he stared at Connor, the last bit of his cigarette burning down to the filter, ignored. Connor had been hoping all day for this opening, it gave him the chance to bring up what had happened the day before. But now that he was faced with Murphy's concerned blue eyes, he felt his intent for confrontation wither and he nodded, blinking slowly and smiling slightly at Murphy,

"I'm fine, Murph."

"Are yeh' sure?" Murphy pressed and Connor felt his twin's anxiousness as a prickling over his skin.

Connor figured in that moment, that it was better to just let it go. Murphy was Murphy, in whatever way he wanted to give himself to Connor, so if everything changed or if nothing stayed completely the same or if it all remained exactly as it was between them, it would be fine. It'd still be perfect.

Besides, they were going back to their calling, so Connor knew he needed to get his mind right, he needed to be ready for anything and for any changes in their lives that might come with that.

"I'm sure." He reached out and patted Murphy's forearm where it rested over his knee and then Connor stood up slowly, feeling tired and sluggish from working all day. He heard Murphy sigh loudly, almost a huff, sounding frustrated…and Connor knew this time he would not be getting away with lying.

It wasn't surprising to Connor when after throwing his filter into the can, Murphy got to his feet and he grabbed Connor's upper arm. Connor had only managed to get a few steps away when he was stopped abruptly by the action. Instead of turning Connor around Murphy came to stand in front of him, Murphy's hand was squeezing his bicep tightly as Murphy glanced toward the open end of their berth before looking back to Connor and frowning slightly,

"What the fuck is wrong with yeh'?" he asked harshly and quietly.

"What, Murph, what do yeh' think is wrong?" Connor asked right back, intending to sound blasé but ultimately sounding annoyed.

Murphy clenched his jaw,

"I wouldn't be fuckin' askin' if I knew, would I, Connor?" he snapped back, a bit louder than necessary and then he sighed and closed his eyes briefly, before glancing around again and Connor just watched him, clenching his jaw as well and exhaling loudly.

He didn't want to fight with Murphy, he never did, and he knew he should just answer the question and move things along…but…

When Murphy looked at Connor again, he had his head dipped slightly and he lowered his voice,

"Did I say something wrong…" he asked in a hushed tone, "…what I said yesterday? Is that et'?"

Connor averted his gaze now, feeling stupid and childish about the whole thing and he shook his head,

"Murph, just ferget' et' alright…" he tried to walk away but Murphy stepped in his way, grabbing the front of his tank shirt to keep him there,

"I didn't mean anything by et', Connor…" Murphy apparently _knew_ exactly what had been bothering Connor, "…I just noticed is all." His fingers curled tighter into Connor's shirt.

Connor didn't know what he was supposed to make of that, it didn't clarify anything, it didn't tell him whether or not what Murphy noticed was good or bad to his twin, it didn't do anything to make Connor feel less insecure.

So he snorted and avoided looking directly at Murphy when he spoke,

"And what, Murphy?" Connor asked.

"And what? What?" Murphy frowned, trying to catch Connor's eyes, "What, what, Connor? Nothing, there's _nothing_." He said sounding confused and annoyed.

Connor finally looked at him, taking a hold of Murphy's wrist and tugging his hand off, leaving behind creases in his tank shirt,

"Yeh' noticed I look older an' yeh' felt the need te' point et' out, there must have been a fuckin' reason, else yeh' woulda' kept et' to yerself', aye?" he asked snidely.

Murphy blinked at him and shook his head, shrugging, confused and getting more irritable, Connor could tell by the visible tension in Murphy's shoulders,

"I just said what I was thinkin', what's the big fuckin' deal?" he frowned at Connor.

Connor continued to feel stupid and insecure, the more Murphy asked about it, the more he realized how childish he was being and it was pissing him off, at himself mostly. And Connor's chaotic feelings right then provided him with many things he could have said but nothing he could say that anyone could overhear, which posed a problem.

Almost absently a solution occurred to him and Connor licked his lips, leaning a fraction closer to Murphy and easily switching languages as he stared straight into Murphy's blue, blue eyes,

"Tá sé tar éis mhí, Murphy, ó tá mé i dteagmháil léi tú, nó go raibh an deis a póg tú i gceart, agus anois amach as an gorm, a ghlaonn tú d'aois orm." _(It has been months, Murphy, since I've touched you, or had the opportunity to kiss you properly, and now out of the blue, you call me old.)_ Connor frowned, saying the words quietly and through clenched teeth.

Murphy's eyes widened, his eyebrow raising and he looked at Connor like he was crazy,

"Ní raibh mé a rá go bhfuil tú ag féachaint d'aois. Dúirt mé níos sine." _(I did not say that you look old. I said older.)_ Murphy stated as his eyes narrowed slowly.

"Cad é an difríocht?" _(What's the difference?)_ Connor gestured randomly with his hand, frowning at his twin.

"Déanann sé difríocht mhór, Connor. Toisc go bhfuil tú ag déanamh sé cosúil amhail is dá raibh mé ag iarraidh a insult tú." _(It makes a big difference, Connor. Because you are making it seem as if I was trying to insult you.)_ Murphy said snappishly, their tones not so quiet now that they were arguing in their native tongue.

Connor couldn't keep his feelings from Murphy after those words, right then he felt that was exactly what Murphy had intended and his expression and posture further confirmed it for his twin as Connor tensed, cursed under his breath and he turned around to walk away from Murphy.

Connor distracted himself by walking over to the table on which the bag with the penny case in it was placed and he started to dig through it for the case. He tried to ignore Murphy's irritation crawling over his skin but then came a huff of laughter that just pissed Connor off,

"Jesus fucking Christ…" Murphy sounded amused, "…yer' so fuckin' schupid."

Connor swiveled around, intending to go off on his twin for calling him stupid just because he felt insecure but Murphy had walked up to him and he got into Connor's face before said twin had even opened his mouth,

"So is that how et' is, Connor?" Connor stood his ground but while Murphy's tone was gruff with anger, his cigarette scented breath ghosting over Connor's face was familiar and distracting, "Nuair a shocraíonn tú a cheapann tú mé ag lorg níos sine, ansin caithfidh mé a thosú buartha faoi cé acu an ndéanfaidh tú a mheas go fóill tarraingteach dom go leor chun a fuck?" _(When you decide that you think I look older, then I have to start worrying about whether you will still consider me attractive enough to fuck?)_ Murphy asked harshly and Connor's mouth fell open in shock at those words.

"What the fu-….no, Murphy, Jesus Christ…" Connor was just about to say how ridiculous that was when it occurred to him exactly what Murphy was making a point about and he closed his mouth abruptly.

Because… **oh** , that was exactly what Connor had been worrying about, Murphy had just articulated it for him.

"Tá sé a bheith, mar a chreideann tú go bhfuil conas a cheapann liom." _(It has to be, because you believe that's how I think.)_ Murphy was shaking his head. Well, shit.

Connor sighed wearily, all of the insecurity and second guessing was now replaced with the knowledge that he was a complete idiot. As well as the obvious fact that Murphy was standing right there, gorgeous and vivid and honest and _insulted_ and making a valid point and all Connor wanted to do was kiss him and apologize into Murphy's sweet mouth that he loved so much, to feel Murphy's breath hitch as Connor tasted him…

But that was not an option. So Connor leaned back against the table heavily and he looked at Murphy apologetically, running a hand over his face before he sighed again,

"Fuck…I am so fuckin' schupid." Connor humorlessly agreed as Murphy glared at him.

"Aye, yeh' fuckin' are." Murphy stated surely and then caught Connor unawares when he smacked him hard upside his head.

Connor glared at him, "…the fuck?"

"That's fer' what yeh' called me yesterday," Murphy pointed a finger at Connor who raised his eyebrows and tried not to smirk, amused when he recalled what he'd said the day before, "don't **ever** call me that again, I'm warning yeh', Connor." Of course he was, Murphy always gave warnings.

Christ, he loved Murphy.

Connor allowed himself to smile when he felt and saw the tension leave his twin and he felt like he had to say something, because Murphy had just resolved the problem that Connor had created,

"Mar sin, a cheapann tú cuma liom mé níos sine, ach go bhfuil tú ag mealladh fós dom?" _(So you think I look older, but you're still attracted to me?)_ he asked quietly, despite not speaking English.

Murphy's expression softened somewhat before he raised his eyebrow and shrugged,

"I don't know…" Murphy patted his pockets down and located their shared packet of cigarettes, "…Iarr orm arís nuair a thosaíonn tú ag dul liath agus beidh mé in iúl a fhios agat." _(Ask me again when you start going gray and I'll let you know.)_ He said with a smirk, in a light playful tone as he pulled the pack out of his pocket and slipped one cigarette out to place it between his lips.

Connor smiled and nodded,

"Aye, s'pose that's fair. Ní féidir liom a bheith ag súil go mbeadh tú a fháil fós tarraingteach dom má thosaigh mé chun breathnú cosúil Da." ( _I do not expect that you would still find me attractive if I started to look like Da.)_ Connor reached for the lighter in his own pocket and he held it out to Murphy.

Murphy pulled his face and snatched the lighter,

"That's fuckin' disgusting, Connor, I don't need that image in my head…" he said around his cigarette as he thumbed the flint wheel twice to spark the lighter and then his cheeks hollowed as he inhaled from the cigarette, smoke slipping from his nose and mouth as he puffed a few times to get the tip burning. Connor just stared, as pathetically in love as ever with the sight of his gorgeous twin.

Murphy eyed him, knowing what Connor was thinking, Connor knew that Murphy knew, because Murphy had that encouraging, playful look in his eyes even as he squinted at the smoke floating around his face. Murphy removed the cigarette from between his lips and let the smoke slowly slip from his mouth. A few seconds passed in silence as they watched one another before Murphy unexpectedly leaned in and Connor tensed, nervous and yet hopeful…but then Murphy's warm, rough hand was pressed lightly over Connor's mouth and he knew what to expect.

As Murphy kissed the back of his hand placed over Connor's mouth, their eyes locked, conveying the emotions they felt for one another in a way that the non-contacting kiss could not before Murphy drew back and sighed softly, both of them wishing they could really kiss.

"Is breá liom tú, Connor." ( _I love you, Connor.)_ Murphy said quietly, not looking at Connor but at his cigarette cherry as he stood a foot away from Connor, but his tone was weighted with love and affection.

Connor swallowed thickly, his own emotions mixing with Murphy's and putting pressure on his chest as he nodded, stood up from the table and placed his hand to the side of Murphy's face, bringing him closer for a quick but firm kiss to the temple,

"Grá duit chomh maith, Murph." _(Love you too, Murph.)_ Connor said, purposely close to Murphy's ear, so that Murphy's hair at the side of his face tickled Connor's nose and lips.

Connor smiled softly and then forced himself to step away and get back to behaving like brothers.

* * *

But you mean more, mean more to me

Than any colour I can see…

* * *

An hour or so later…

Connor was making his way back to his and Murphy's berth after having been to see the boatswain, the next two days would be their last on the ship and he'd gone to collect his and Murphy's pay. Their false papers labeled them as *OS's so they 'technically' worked from cargo ship to cargo ship as apprentices to *AB's, gaining experience. It was a nice and neat and well put together cover and Connor made a mental note to thank Uncle Sibeal when next he saw or spoke to the man, he had certainly made getting out of and back into the states much easier.

Connor folded the two separate envelopes which held two cash cheques and shoved them into his back pocket, the cash cheque payments were as requested and arranged by Sibeal, Connor honestly wondered how the man did it. When Connor entered their shared berth his eyes fell on Murphy, who had changed into his jeans, just as Connor had, both of them wearing it with their white work shirts. His twin was busy looking through a bag for something and Connor couldn't help the urge he had to be close to Murphy right then.

After resolving their problem earlier he still felt stupid and like he needed to make it up to Murphy. Connor knew he couldn't actually do anything right then with Murphy but that only made the fact that they'd be reaching land, New York, in just over 48 hours something to really look forward to. Connor intended to take a night, just as he'd told Murphy the day before, for the two of them to make up for lost time, and Christ, he was looking forward to it.

Presently though, there was a pot filled with water that needed to be boiled so that Connor could mix the solution for cleaning the pennies, it was sitting on their borrowed one plate gas stove, waiting.

They had to get as much as they could done before they made port, because once they were back in the states, they were back to being 'Saints'. With a silent sigh Connor continued walking into their compartment, making his way toward his twin.

* * *

…all you ever wanted to be

Living in perfect symmetry,

Nothing is as down or as up as us.

* * *


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Double Chapter Upload
> 
> \- Please report any major errors to me & feel free to let me know your thoughts

* * *

'Cause everything that I am is just pieces of you...

* * *

Murphy was searching through one of the few smaller bags they had among their luggage, he was looking for their roll of insulation tape but his mind was elsewhere, his thoughts were on Boston, on what awaited them when they got there.

He was able to think more clearly now that he and Connor had resolved their issue earlier. Murphy had honestly been pissed off at Connor's stupidity but he hadn't had the energy nor had he wanted to argue about it, he'd just wanted it over with and resolved.

And since Connor had looked ridiculously apologetic once Murphy had put him in his place, said twin had just decided to get over it, to play it off and joke about it.

There were more important things going on right then anyway.

They still needed to decide where they were going to go from the harbor, although Murphy assumed Connor had been serious about going to a hotel for the night before heading to Boston. They knew they'd arrive at the port of New York in the early hours of the morning, 48 hours from then, so even if they decided to stay a night in NY, they still needed to discuss and decide what they'd do once they got into Boston. Murphy supposed there was no big rush, they still had time on the ship. And then they'd have even more time once they got to whatever hotel they ended up at, inside a room where they had the privacy to talk properly, to hash out the details…if they ended up talking at all.

Murphy felt a cold breeze reach him where he stood and it distracted him from his oncoming dirty thoughts. Ignoring the air that was slowly growing colder, he refocused on what he was doing. He was getting frustrated with trying to find the tape as he grabbed another bag and started rummaging through it, but then he was surprised –pleasantly- when Connor appeared right behind him…directly behind him. Standing close enough that his front was pressed lightly to Murphy's back, his warmth was felt, his scent –day worn and naturally musky- was near enough that Murphy could inhale it quietly…fuck…

He'd barely paid attention to being close to Connor earlier when they'd been miffed at one another, but now, now his mind was clear of all worry and stress and Connor was coming through clearly, via their link and with his real, tangible presence.

Murphy glanced around after biting the inside of his bottom lip, because they were not in a private place, anyone could walk by the open end of the compartment and see them, and Connor was probably thinking the same thing, because whatever reason he'd stopped there for, on his way past Murphy, he hesitated. Although Connor wasn't strictly doing anything questionable by just standing behind him.

But then his arms came up, settling in a loose headlock position around Murphy's shoulders and neck, but he wasn't wrestling or grappling or anything, it was just meant to appear as a plutonic hold, while still being an embrace for a bit of closeness.

"We should call a cab from the harbor, we'll draw less attention that way." Connor said in a mumble, his mouth close to Murphy's ear, his skin warm against Murphy's shoulders and neck since he wore a white tank shirt with his work overall top tied at his waist, so his arms were bare.

Murphy smirked, he should have known Connor's thoughts would mirror his own, both of them were thinking about what to do once they were off the ship. Although right then, Murphy was distracted by his twin's closeness and he shook his head to try and clear it, chewing the inside of his lip as he finally found the insulation tape and took it out of the bag,

"Doubt a New York cabbie would recognize us, they're usually foreigners…should be fine." Murphy was tempted to lean back into Connor but he knew he couldn't, "When we get te' Boston, any ideas on where we should stay?" he asked as an afterthought, because a motel or hotel wouldn't be a wise option or a long term one once they were there.

Connor hummed,

"Aye, I'll think of something…"

"Of course yeh' will…" Murphy said with a small smirk and a hint of sarcasm, teasing his twin indirectly about his often ridiculous plans.

Connor's arms tightened a bit into an actual choke hold and Murphy snickered, before the hold loosened again,

"Yeh' always complain but yeh' never have any fuckin' ideas yerself'." Connor pointed out.

"Aye, I don't need te' come up with ideas, I'm just so fuckin' good that I can make do with whatever shit you come up with…" he broke off laughing when Connor tightened his grip again,

"… _oh, Murphy_ , he's so fuckin' good at everything…" Connor pulled Murphy down and to the side, hence starting a wrestling match between them as he continued in a teasing voice, "…a regular Dirty Harry, minus the fuckin' badge, aren't yeh'?"

"Fuck you…" Murphy laughed as he grabbed Connor around his waist, trying to get leverage to pull himself out of Connor's hold as they both grinned, struggling to overpower one another in the small space without knocking any of their stuff over.

Murphy dropped the insulation tape and he used his hands to grab Connor and twist himself around so his head and shoulder were pressed to Connor's midsection and then he cheated, he knew that Connor _despised_ being tickled, so of course he did just that, curling and digging his fingers into Connor's sides.

Connor swore in a bit of a squeak, shoving Murphy away and Murphy laughed, highly amused as he leaned against the table behind him after back stepping a few times.

"I fuckin' hate et' when yeh' do that." Connor glared, pulling at his tank shirt, "We're not fuckin' ten anymore, Murph."

Murphy tipped his head, looking incredibly unapologetic,

"Aye, an' if we were somewhere else I would have hoisted yeh' up an' body slammed yeh' instead," he smirked at Connor, "or maybe…I would have done something else…" he mumbled, eyes conveying the sexual innuendo intended in his words, "…but I had te' make do." He finished off with a shrug.

Murphy watched as Connor tried not to smile, but his blue eyes did a sweep over the length of Murphy's body, giving away that he'd caught the meaning behind that look,

"A rematch at another time, then?" Connor asked as he leaned against the wall.

Murphy walked toward the stool and table he'd been sitting at before he'd gone to fetch the insulation tape, he leaned down and scooped up said tape before he glanced over his shoulder at his twin and nodded once.

Neither of them said anything as they settled down, backs facing one another on opposite sides of the small space as Connor set about lighting the gas fire in order to boil water for the solution he'd be making to clean off their copper pennies. Murphy began preparing the tattooing instrument he'd be using on Connor, peeling the tape open, biting a piece off and securing the sewing needle to the pen.

He glanced over at Connor as he put the pen between his teeth, watching Connor extract a cigarette from a crumpled soft pack he'd taken out of one of their bags. Ah, the luxury of pre-packed cigarettes made Murphy smile briefly to himself as he turned back to his task. He smelled the cigarette scent in the air once Connor lit up and he instantly craved one himself.

Murphy was distracted from watching Connor when the radio, which had been dead for a while, picked up a signal and crackled, breaking through the general dull hum of the ship and the comfortable silence. Murphy reached over and turned the volume up, they had set the radio to Boston's news station, waiting until whatever was interfering with the frequency passed. He was trying to distract himself from thinking about the _rematch_ he and Connor would have when they were alone, so he figured the radio would help keep his mind out of the gutter.

Murphy removed the pen from between his teeth, putting it on the table so he could peel another piece of tape off, absently listening to the radio and that was when it happened…their next target was presented to them as if by the grace of God. Just as the Russian's had been nine years ago, except this time coming in the form of the radio frequency they were lucky to have picked up at just the right time and Murphy's mind instantly focused on the broadcast as he heard the words coming through the radio crystal clear.

 _"…_ _this guy was indicted last year for ordering the murders of twenty two people and it slipped right off his back. Piece of shit."_

Murphy stilled, stopping what he was doing and instead turning his head to look at the radio, the tape roll and its ripped off piece held in either hand as he listened.

 _"_ _Yes, indeed, Boston has been under the terrible reign of this thug for years now…where's the D.A's office?"_

Murphy started to feel the draw of their cause, their purpose, slowly seep into his body, it began as a sort of tension in his gut, a feeling of sickness at what he was hearing and then came the feeling of angry intent, the strong need to make it right. It slowly spread through his limbs, making his muscles tense and his jaw clench and he felt similar vibes from Connor through their link.

 _"_ _Why can't they make anything stick to Concezio Yakavetta?"_

And that was it. Murphy was sold.

It was a Yakavetta terrorizing Boston. That dead mother fucker Papa Joe had a family member who was carrying on the family scumbag legacy. It could have been a brother, a son or a fucking nephew twice removed, Murphy didn't care.

Yakavetta was apparently just the last name for men who were pieces of shit.

He turned around and glanced over his shoulder, expecting to, and finding Connor looking back at him, their pairs of blue eyes holding one another's gaze, serious and determined and even though they didn't say anything to one another, they both knew exactly where to start looking.

Because if anyone had a bone to pick with the MacManus twins, enough to kill a priest to get their attention, it was a Yakavetta.

* * *

* * *

The following work day went by quickly, Murphy was glad for it because he was anxious to get off the ship, to return to the way life had been before they'd fled to Ireland, or at least he hoped it would be like that again, or even just similar.

He missed it…he missed the life he and Connor had had.

Ireland had taken years of their lives and their youth.

They'd fled there because they'd thought it would be a way for them to be together, but after a while even that had become almost impossible.

Presently Murphy was waiting for Connor to complete packing up one of their bags because tomorrow would be their final day and then they'd be making port, finally. Murphy was standing, leaning against the table where he had set up the ink, cloth, rubbing alcohol and handmade tattooing instrument he'd put together the evening prior. There was a stool set up as well where Connor would sit as Murphy worked on his tattoo.

They'd intended to work on it the night before but they'd been sidetracked by the news on Concezio Yakavetta and had ended up too distracted to do anything else, both of them were feeling twice as anxious to get to America. And it was a worse wait because they couldn't talk about their plans to kill the fucker while they were on the ship.

It was really frustrating. Shit, everything was frustrating Murphy lately.

"Alright, Murph." Connor's voice brought him out of his reverie, he'd been staring into the pot filled with shiny copper pennies that Connor had left there overnight to soak in the cleaning solution.

Murphy glanced at Connor when his twin came to stand beside him, pulling his white work tank shirt up over his head and tossing it aside, just as Murphy, who was already shirtless –because they'd need to change their shirts later anyway- had done earlier.

Murphy was fiddling with the pen-needle between his fingers as he trailed his eyes over Connor's fair, hairless, more built torso, so different than it had been some years ago and he found himself frowning, making Connor frown at him before they looked at each other,

"What is et', Murphy?" Connor asked and Murphy didn't miss the hint of confusion in his tone.

Murphy blinked at him, tipped his head to one side and then he gestured to Connor's smooth chest with the back of the pen-needle,

"When did yeh' shave yer' chest?" he asked quietly, since he'd never shaved his own, not that he had much hair to show for it, and as far as he'd known Connor hadn't ever bothered to shave either, but apparently he had.

Connor glanced down at his chest and then sat down on the stool just next to him as he shrugged,

"Been doin' et' fer' a while." He answered offhandedly.

Murphy tried to think of the last time he'd actually looked properly at Connor when he'd been shirtless and the recent months just seemed to blur together in his mind.

Fuck, they'd lost touch, not emotionally, but physically.

They literally hadn't touched each other intimately in months.

Murphy sighed as he adjusted his tattooing tools on the table and then he nudged a crate over to the side of Connor's stool so he'd have a place to set his foot when he leaned over to work on Connor's tattoo. He decided to let that particular topic –of Connor's random chest shaving- drop, because again, pursuing a personal issue in a place where they couldn't actually talk freely was pointless.

Murphy picked up the cloth he'd washed and dried for this particular purpose and he wet it with rubbing alcohol before wiping it over the area on Connor's shoulder where he intended to continue inking in. Once he'd sterilized the area, Murphy waited as Connor leaned forward and got comfortable with his elbows on the table in front of him, before Murphy took his lighter out and flicked it on so he could sterilize the needle tip inside the flame. Once he was satisfied that everything was good to go, Murphy leaned over behind Connor and pressed his left hand to Connor's back to keep him in that position.

Murphy then dipped the needle into the ink set out on the table before he started pressing the needle just so into Connor's skin, following the lines of the wooden cross tattoo in his mind as the ink soaked into Connor's skin with each careful prick, prick, prick.

Murphy let himself become drawn in by what he was doing and several minutes passed in silence, slipping into a half hour before he finally paused and stood up straight to stretch his back out. Murphy placed the needle-pen down, carefully balanced on the ink container, as Connor also sat up straight and they both reached for the packet of cigarettes sitting on the table top.

Connor was nearer and he picked it up first, tapping two out and handing one over his shoulder to Murphy.

Said twin took the cigarette as he pulled the lighter out of his pocket and he lit it before handing the lighter to Connor, who took it from him and did likewise with his own smoke. They both puffed on their cigarettes and exhaled smoke clouds.

After a minute Connor spoke,

"Reckon we should go te' Doc's…" he said thoughtfully, the words half muffled by the loose fist he had near his mouth and the cigarette poised between his lips as he stared at the far wall of the compartment.

Murphy frowned,

"Are yeh' askin' or suggesting?" he asked as he stood behind Connor and looked over what he'd filled in of the tattoo so far.

Connor removed the cigarette from his lips and exhaled through his nose,

"Either one." He said, absently using a finger to shift the penny pot where it stood on the unlit gas stove.

Murphy thought about it, taking a long drag on his cigarette as he stared at the back of Connor's head,

"Yeh' think we could? I wouldn't want te' drag him in te' our shit again." He pointed out, considering how the trouble they had caused with the Russians had forced Doc to close the bar for a while.

Connor shrugged,

"I doubt any police or mafia are still watching him after all this time…" he voiced his thoughts, flicking the ash of his cigarette onto the floor, "…side's, Murph, he's the only person we can trust te' put us up long term." He was speaking in a low tone.

Murphy finished off his cigarette quickly enough that it burned his throat and nose before he dropped the filter and crushed it under his boot. He didn't respond right away, instead blowing smoke out of his mouth in a different direction than where Connor sat as he reached into his pocket for the pack of gum sticks he'd bought off one of the seaman earlier that day.

The gum was extremely minty tasting but not too sweet, which Murphy preferred and considering they only had two and a half packs of cigarettes left until they made landfall an entire day away, he needed something to keep his mouth busy.

Murphy blushed for absolutely no reason other than his own dirty mind when he considered _other_ ways in which he'd rather keep his mouth busy, ways that all involved Connor. It wasn't an option though, not for another day or so, so he took out two thin sticks of gum, unwrapped them and then pressed them into his mouth, chewing more aggressively than was strictly necessary out of frustration.

It burned his sinuses just as the smoke had and Murphy swallowed the rush of minty flavor filling his mouth before he glanced at Connor, who was still smoking,

"Yeh' want a piece of gum?" he offered.

Connor glanced over his shoulder, his eyes not actually reaching Murphy though,

"No…since when do yeh' chew fuckin' gum?" he asked a valid question and finished off his smoke.

Murphy tucked the gum pack into his pocket again and he sighed as he repositioned himself behind Connor, waiting with a hand –unnecessarily- on Connor's bare shoulder, as his twin dropped his cigarette filter and stamped on it with a soft crunch,

"Since our fuckin' smokes are running low and there aren't many people te' bump any off of before we make port." Murphy made a valid point of his own and then he picked up the cloth and the needle, the latter he dipped into the ink, "Yeh' sure you don't want any? Et's really fuckin' minty." He said with a smirk.

"Aye, I can smell et'…" Connor mumbled, shaking his head at Murphy's offer as he leaned forward again and Murphy just shrugged and continued tattooing his twin's skin.

Murphy made a new line of ink as his dirty thoughts from earlier came back full circle and he glanced at the back of Connor's head with a smirk, he was just about to lean in close and whisper a question into his twin's ear of whether Connor would mind having a mint scented cock -fuck, the idea alone of sucking Connor off sent a shock of arousal through Murphy- but his dirty thoughts and verbal intent were derailed by Connor's completely clean and sober words,

"We can't risk staying in a hotel or an apartment fer' a long time, too many people might recognize us after a while, at least with Doc we know we can trust him, s'not like we have anyone else in Boston anyway, since Smecker passed." He was saying conversationally.

Murphy swallowed a collection of minty saliva before he continued chewing and tattooing Connor's warm, smooth skin. Christ, he was fucking _horny_ but he needed to focus, because Connor was being fucking serious. Murphy bobbed his eyebrows and glanced at the back of Connor's head of untidy brown hair,

"But how would anybody even recognize us?" he asked distractedly.

Connor did the not really glance over his shoulder thing again,

"You don't remember the fuckin' sketches on the news channel?" he asked shortly and Murphy felt stupid, because, duh, he remembered that, but his mind wasn't in the game right then,

"Oh shit, thas' right." He mumbled in agreement and he heard Connor mumble a 'fucks sake' under his breath.

Murphy gave the back of Connor's head a quick glare, because Connor was being unnecessarily assholish, but then Murphy also knew Connor was stressed because he needed to come up with a plan by the time they made port, so he dropped it, going on conversationally as if his twin wasn't being a moody arse,

"Yeh' know, every time yeh' see those composites on T.V an' they catch a guy," Murphy needled in some more ink, shaking his head as he thought about the irony of how accurate their sketches had been, "et' looks nothin' like em'…but ours…" He trailed off, working his teeth into the gum that was already becoming bland on his tongue.

Fuck, he wanted a cigarette.

Connor nodded briefly,

"Just our luck, right?" he said dully, "We draw Leonardo fuckin' Da Vinci as a sketch artist." Connor finished sarcastically, starting to fidget and Murphy could feel his twin's irritation and restlessness building, he could also feel the tension of Connor's back muscles under his hands and it only served to distract Murphy even worse.

He found himself wondering what a larger built, stronger Connor would feel like above him in bed, between his legs…or behind him...fuck, how long had it been? They'd gone through so many hand jobs, blowjobs and dry humps in the last two years and then nothing in the last few months that the last time they'd actually fucked, Murphy didn't remember Connor being as built as he was right then.

Murphy forced himself to think of anything besides sex, to focus on their dilemma, as he hastily wiped at Connor's back with the cloth after inking another small part. He decided to make a joke, more in line with the actual topic of discussion, also he was wondering what Connor's thoughts would be on the matter,

"Two days ago we looked like Jesus Christ…" he pointed out and he glanced at the back of Connor's head again, feeling inwardly grateful that all the excess hair was gone even as he said, "…what the fuck we cut our hair fer'?"

He knew Connor didn't miss the hair they'd sheared off, and he heard the lilt of amusement in Connor's tone as he responded off handedly,

"Yeah, thas' right, I don't know…just seemed like the thing te' do at the time, though, didnit'?" it wasn't really a question.

Murphy chewed and chewed on the bland gum as his mind lingered on Connor and his hair, which Murphy always enjoyed running his fingers through. He noticed, as he tattooed patiently, that with all the high beam lights on Connor's hair, it looked almost copperish in colour, an even lighter brown than it usually was and a thought occurred to him,

"Maybe we should dye et'?" Murphy suggested.

"What?" Connor asked evenly.

Murphy raised his eyebrows, inking while glancing from Connor's tattoo to the back of his head,

"Yea', they're always dyin' their hair in the movies…like…" he started, honestly considering the idea as he thought of an example, "…like 'The Fugitive'." Connor said nothing, Murphy glanced at him again, "Et's covert an' shit." He added.

He noticed Connor's silence then, the silence that lasted a few seconds and was too obvious, too blatant and Murphy instantly became suspicious of his twin when Connor asked, amusement lacing his tone,

"What colour would yeh' dye et'?"

Murphy paused, the pen-needle held an inch from Connor's skin between his fingers as he glanced at the back of Connor's head warily, uncertain of whether he should answer the question, because why did Connor sound so fucking amused?

Murphy started moving his jaw again, chewing on the hardened piece of gum as he glanced to the side before he decided to go ahead and answer the question,

"…lighter…I guess." He answered honestly, since he had dark hair already, anything darker wouldn't make sense.

Murphy kept his eyes on Connor as he fidgeted with the pen-needle inches from Connor's skin,

"D'yeh' mean **blonde**?" Connor asked just a few seconds later, already starting to laugh and Murphy narrowed his eyes and glared at his twin's head.

He should have fucking _known_ Connor was planning on making fun of him.

35 years of living with his twin and he still walked right into it sometimes. Shit.

Murphy was shaking his head before he knew it, absently shifting the pen-needle in his hand,

"I didn't fuckin' say that." He stated over Connor's increasing laughter, but honestly, he'd been thinking blonde when he'd suggested 'lighter'.

But Connor didn't need to know that, the shit that he was.

"…like California surfer blonde-…" Connor continued to laugh.

"S'not what I'm sayin'…" Murphy denied, pointing the pen-needle at his unfazed twin.

"…like gay, gay, gay, faggoty blonde…" more laughter.

"I'm fuckin' warnin' yeh'." Murphy felt himself getting irritable and annoyed with Connor's teasing, as he often did.

"STAY GOLD, PONY BOY…-" Connor was **so** annoying.

"I'M FUCKIN' WARNIN' YEH!" Murphy wanted to shut him up.

"…STAY GOLD PON-…" Connor wouldn't shut the fuck up.

"FUCK YOU!" so Murphy stabbed him with the needle.

What could Murphy say? It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. Heh.

"AH! YEH' FUCKIN' CUNT!" Connor shouted at the quick stab of pain.

But Murphy had already pulled the needle out and had distanced himself, jumping away from Connor with a pissed off look on his face that mirrored how pissed off he actually was.

Fuck Connor for calling him a fag anyway.

"JESUS FUCKIN' CHRIST!" Connor got up quickly and tossed the pot of water and pennies behind him, probably hoping it would hit Murphy but he was too slow and now the pennies were all over the floor.

"Well, I fuckin' warned yeh-…" Murphy said loudly, but not yelling.

Connor looked pissed.

And okay, so maybe Murphy took it _too_ personally, Connor hadn't actually called him a fag, he'd called California surfer blonde guys, fags.

"…CHRIST, ARE YEH' FUCKIN' CRAZY…!"

Connor was really pissed and Murphy felt the anger of his twin like a crawling sensation over his skin as he ducked away from a swipe Connor made in an attempt to grab him. Murphy put his fists up, half expecting an actual fight, but more just expecting he and Connor would end up roughing each other up with some violent grappling until they had a couple of well-earned bruises, such was their way of resolving conflict.

But before Connor could actually come at him, the door of the open compartment was swung outward and someone was standing there, looking at them…Romeo, the Mexican from the betting fights, was standing there.

Both twin's turned to look at him, their little spat forgotten the instant Romeo, eyes wide, approached them slowly and said,

"I know who you are…"

Well shit.

* * *

* * *

Romeo had basically been asking…no, begging for them to mess with him.

Christ, he was almost as bad as Rocco had been, putting himself in the perfect position for the twins to pull some prank on him all the time, Romeo did the same fucking thing.

After saying that he knew who they were, the star struck Mexican had started talking about how much he loved the 'Saints', although he wisely –due to Connor's threat to keep his mouth shut- did not explicitly call them the 'Saints'. And as he went on about how he would like to get in on the action, be a part of their cause, Murphy had glanced at Connor, trying to get a read on his twin's thoughts, because he wasn't about to take Romeo seriously and he didn't expect Connor would either.

Then Romeo had asked if it was true that they said a prayer before they _greased_ somebody.

For fucks sake, it didn't get much more inviting than that to mess with the overly enthusiastic Romeo.

So the twins came to a wordless mutual agreement as they stood staring Romeo down and without even needing to look at one another, they grabbed Romeo and slammed him onto the ground on his back. Murphy pinned him there as Connor reached for one of their unloaded guns and then they'd had their fun.

Murphy had forced himself not to grin like an idiot as Connor had pressed the gun to Romeo's head and said loudly and with much hammed up conviction, far more than they ever used in their sincere execution prayer,

" **And an awesome wailing was heard tru-out' heaven** …!"

Murphy had joined in, saying the next line of the prayer, shit, he loved it when he and Connor did stuff like that, messed with people for shits and giggles, he'd missed it, just goofing around with his twin.

Once they were done reciting the prayer and Romeo had looked like he was shitting himself, Connor had pulled the trigger so that the unloaded gun pressed to Romeo's forehead had made a loud, anticlimactic 'click'. Murphy had already been grinning before Connor had said there was a busy signal and that they'd have to 'calleth' God back later and then they'd both cracked up.

Romeo had looked so fucking terrified…and then relieved and finally, annoyed.

But he was a good sport, that was for sure, he hadn't even been angry at them for their little prank.

* * *

* * *

He'd left after that, Connor and Murphy had sent him on his way with a warning to keep his mouth shut and they kept his bottle of whiskey.

But Romeo was nothing if not determined.

He'd sought Connor and Murphy out the following day after they'd all finished work and asked if he could talk to them. Murphy had left the decision of whether they should hear what he had to say or not up to Connor and when said twin had nodded and told Romeo they'd meet him on the top deck in an hour, Murphy hadn't said anything even though he'd wanted to.

But he'd asked Connor once they were alone, why he was willing to listen to Romeo. Connor pointed out that Romeo could easily have gone off and told any number of people who they were, it was something both of them had been subconsciously concerned about, but Romeo hadn't told a soul -if everyone's consistently ordinary behavior around them was indication of anything.

That meant Romeo wasn't a sellout, or a grudging person, or a snitch.

Those were generally favorable traits and so Connor explained there would be no harm in hearing Romeo out, just to give the man a chance to voice his piece. But Murphy had gathered from Connor's nonchalance that he had no intention of taking anything Romeo said seriously.

Presently they were sitting around on the upper deck of the ship, the temperature had dropped and Connor and Murphy had pulled on jackets over their work overalls. They'd packed up the last of their luggage in their compartment and they were ready to make port, as was Romeo, who sat with them as they passed around the mostly untouched bottle of whiskey. It was the same one the Mexican had brought to them the day before as some sort of buddy-buddy gesture, and Romeo also had cigarettes which he shared happily, so Murphy had no complaints.

At the moment they were listening to Romeo trying to convince them that he should join them once they made port. He made a compelling argument about how he was trustworthy, how he supported their cause one hundred percent, saying that he knew how to use a gun and that he had the balls to follow through on any job they decided to do, he wasn't afraid…blah blah…

Murphy was not taking him seriously, there was no room for a third person in the 'Saint's, they'd learned the hard way with Rocco that the burden was his and Connor's choice, their risky lifestyle to live and only their lives needed to be at risk.

Murphy glanced at Connor as said twin took a swig of the whiskey,

"No…" Connor said after a beat of silence in which Romeo had been waiting for an answer and his voice was raspier from the burn of the whiskey. Murphy glanced to Romeo, the Mexican's shoulders sagged and Murphy tried not to smile in amusement as he smoked.

He'd known Connor would agree with him, they didn't even need to talk about it.

Romeo continued to campaign though, saying he had connections all over 'bean' town…fuck, Murphy stifled a snicker as he exhaled smoke, watching Romeo as he pledged, saying he would 'hook them up like a tow truck'. Holy shit, where did he learn to talk like that? Was probably a culture thing.

He was looking at Murphy this time, since Connor had shot him down and Murphy just shook his head,

"No." he said just as plainly as Connor had.

"Why not?" Romeo asked, still looking at him.

Murphy had taken a quick drag on his cigarette and as he spoke, smoke puffed out of his mouth,

"We don't have te' give yeh' fuckin' reasons, ferget' et'." He said shortly, irritation rising because he'd just taken the whiskey bottle from Connor, who had been taking large swigs from it for several minutes now and seeing as how it was the first alcohol they'd had since leaving Ireland recently, Murphy was worried that his twin would over indulge as he'd become accustomed to.

Murphy absently took a sip from the whiskey and Romeo looked from twin to twin before he tilted his head back,

"It's because I'm Mexican, isn't it?" he asked with wide eyes, once again looking at Murphy.

Murphy swallowed his mouthful of whiskey and frowned, glancing at Connor who put on a serious face that Murphy just knew was bullshit,

"How dare yeh', sir, insinuate such a thing…" he said evenly and Murphy smirked, glancing at Romeo, "…the fact that yer' a greasy spic," Romeo rolled his eyes and Connor dropped the serious act and he started snickering right along with Murphy, "…s'got nothin' te' do with et'."

Murphy and Connor looked at one another as they laughed at Romeo's expense, like they'd done so many times with Rocco.

"Okay, I'ma let you have that one…" Romeo said, ever the good sport, "…but look I can do this…" and then he was campaigning again and Murphy sniffed as he slowly stopped laughing, watching Romeo and sipping the whiskey again, "…this isn't rocket surgery," Murphy and Connor glanced at each other at those words, mirth was shining clearly in Connor's tired eyes and Murphy just bit the inside of his lip so he didn't laugh out aloud, "you guys find the bad guys, doing bad stuff and you kill them, right?" Romeo asked quietly.

Murphy wished he'd drop the subject. He handed Romeo the whiskey bottle, hoping that if he drank some more he'd forget this conversation. He glanced at Connor after Romeo took the whiskey and Murphy noticed that Connor actually seemed to be seriously listening to Romeo, which made Murphy frown.

"Et's not that simple actually…" Connor said too seriously and Murphy didn't like his tone, so he tried to throw Connor off,

"Yes, et' is." Because it _was_ and they were capable of doing it by themselves.

"S'pose yer' right…" Connor didn't miss a beat and Murphy watched him, frowning, wondering what the fuck Connor was thinking all of a sudden, "…I was just hoping that we was a bit…more artistic about et' I think…" he said with a frown of his own.

Murphy shook his head and took a drag on his smoke as he slid his eyes to Romeo, who was extremely persistent,

"Yeah, well you ain't." Romeo said to Connor, not drinking any damn whiskey, eyes clear and determined, he really wanted this, Murphy could tell. Murphy watched with narrowed eyes as Romeo handed the whiskey bottle back to Connor, who seemed less and less amused and more thoughtful about the situation.

Murphy watched as Connor sipped from the whiskey and Romeo just kept talking,

"Now…what do you plan on doing when you get to US soil?" he switched gears, apparently smarter than he looked and Murphy looked from him to Connor.

"We don't really have…" Connor started and Murphy clenched his jaw, "…yeh' know, a succinct plan yet…" he glanced at Murphy who nodded, even though he was getting irritable, "…yeh' know, per se…" because Connor had to be fucking lying, lying badly too, he _always_ had a fucking plan, sometimes three or four even, but now he was telling Romeo he didn't have one.

So Murphy figured maybe this was some sort of test for Romeo? To see what he had to offer them?

Murphy quickly caught up, guessing his twin was up to something so he played along, nodding,

"…haven't really worked et' all out…" He agreed with Connor, despite _not_ agreeing with Connor internally and not liking where this might be going, "…as et' were…" he and Connor looked at one another, syncing up and nodding,

"…as et' were…" Connor repeated stupidly, "…not fully developed…per se…" Connor added even more stupidly and they both kept nodding, Murphy fiddling with his cigarette as they turned their eyes to Romeo.

They'd laugh about this later for sure.

They were doing a God awful job of lying but Murphy assumed that all Romeo was hearing was an opening for him to insist he'd be useful…just as Rocco had done once. Expect back then, he and Connor honestly hadn't had a plan, whereas now, they were bullshitting.

As expected, Romeo looked immediately pleased by their vague response,

"You two leprechaun dicks need to chill in the green room, sipping on some Pellegrino and let your manager handle the details."

Murphy and Connor stared at him.

"And you better have my Cub Scout badge ready, cause' if you wanna kick Yakavetta in the nuts, have him wake up with a horse head in his bed…" he leaned back where he sat, "…Romeo's got a ace in the hole fo'ya." He finished confidently.

Murphy exhaled smoke, unimpressed by Romeo's words as he continued to stare at the smug Mexican and Connor started laughing so Murphy did too, because Romeo sounded like an idiot, Christ, who the fuck talked like that?

Murphy didn't laugh much though, even as Connor continued to as he sipped from the whiskey again. Murphy took a final drag on his smoke and then he leveled Romeo with a serious look, licking his lips before exhaling a cloud of smoke,

"What makes yeh' so sure we're goin' after Yakavetta?" he honestly wondered, because he'd be pissed if the night before had not been the first time Romeo had eavesdropped on them.

Connor sniffed, glancing from Murphy to Romeo and raising an eyebrow in question. Romeo, to his credit, didn't miss a beat or look as though he'd been caught out, he simply answered,

"I told you guys, I'm from Boston, I know the shit that's going down in my home town, man. And I know you guys greased Little Yaka's pop's years back." Romeo sat forward and Connor and Murphy were both seriously listening to him now, "That shit…the fucked up business with the priest getting killed and someone framing you guys for it…" Romeo nodded, "…guaran-fucking-teed Yakavetta was behind it, man." He sounded sure.

They'd already surmised as much, Connor and Murphy, they knew it was Concezio Yakavetta because God had laid out the son of a bitch on a silver platter as their main target. What they hadn't known and had just learned from Romeo, was that the new Yakavetta terrorizing Boston was Papa Joe's _son_.

Murphy hated to think it…but maybe Romeo could be useful. And considering the serious way Connor glanced at him before passing him the whiskey bottle, Murphy saw the same thoughts in his twin's expression.

"We'll think about it…" Connor then said and Murphy would not go against him, so he nodded and they both gave Romeo one more serious look before Connor tipped his head as a gesture for Romeo to take a walk.

Murphy watched as Romeo huffed a little, but he stood up and left them alone, because they needed to talk.

* * *

* * *

...every thought that I have, just pieces of you, just pieces of you.  
Just pieces of you.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Please report any major errors to me & feel free to let me know your thoughts
> 
> \- The pictures used are from real places in Brooklyn, I do not own anything

* * *

Without you it's shadows, the night's black pitch…

* * *

Watching Romeo walk away and knowing they only had about an hour before they made port, Connor clenched his hand around the whiskey bottle as he tried to figure out whether letting Romeo join them would be a good idea.

He glanced up at the sky and noticed that it seemed less black, more dark blue, which probably meant they weren't far from New York City and its massive light pollution, so maybe thirty minutes…even less time than he'd thought.

He turned to look at Murphy, who was leaning against a cargo winch, chewing the inside of his bottom lip and fiddling with his lighter since he'd finished smoking and he was looking right at Connor. Said twin blinked at Murphy and then sniffed,

"What do yeh' think?" he asked evenly, quietly.

Murphy stared at Connor before shaking his head,

"No, Connor…have yeh' forgotten what happened with Roc?" he asked just as quietly.

Connor should have known Murphy would bring that up, Rocco's death had never stopped being a guilty thorn in Murphy's side, even after all these years.

Connor knew this was one of those times when he needed to talk Murphy past his emotions and fears and into the realm of simple logic,

"Et's not the same scenario, Murphy."

Murphy scoffed,

"The only difference here is that we haven't asked him te' join us, he decided that bit without us even wanting him in, otherwi-…"

"Murph…" Connor had to cut him off, because he knew everything that Murphy had to say, "…Rocco's situation was completely different an' yeh' know et'. He was mafia and he was already on their hit list even before he put a bigger target on his back when he shot up that coffee shop…" and Connor hated to say the words, no matter how honest they were because they still upset Murphy, "…I warned yeh' back then that he was reckless." Connor saw that Murphy was about to start getting angry, so he placed the whiskey bottle down, stood up quickly and stepped just a bit closer to his twin to diffuse the tension, "An' I'm not sayin' any of that had te' do with the fucked up way that he died. I'm just sayin' that we took a risk, a chance, when we let Rocco in even though we _knew_ he had enemies and a lot of people knew that we were friends with him." Murphy was glaring at him, working his jaw but he was thinking about Connor's words.

"What's yer' fuckin' point, Connor?" Murphy snapped quietly, but it was a good sign that he was asking, because it meant he wasn't disagreeing, instead he was considering what was being said.

Connor stepped nearer and stood carefully closer, just beside his twin, also leaning against the winch so that their shoulders were touching but not in any way that would seem inappropriate if anyone happened by,

"My point is that Romeo isn't associated with us in _any_ way, we never fuckin' knew him, no one we knew ever knew him either." Murphy frowned but he was listening as Connor spoke quietly, staring at Murphy's attractive side profile, "He lives in a different part of Boston altogether and he has connections who despise the Italian mafia by default, making them automatic allies when yeh' think about et'." He sighed, "The only person we currently have in Boston is Doc, and the police know we're associated wit' him, I'm just thinking, Murph, that-…"

"…that Romeo would make a good back up plan in case Doc can't help us?" Murphy sighed and glanced at him, and Connor nodded,

"Aye, that, and also we could use his connections to locate Yakavetta…we don't have Rocco, Smecker or even Da and we'll be putting the other people we know at risk if we try contacting them…"

"Aye, I get et', Connor." Murphy leaned his head back, staring at the sky as he sighed again and Connor wished he could lean over and place a soft, wet kiss against the smooth skin of his twin's bared throat.

Connor blinked the distracted thought away and sniffed again, the weather was messing with him, making him feel congested. He rubbed at his nose with the back of his fingers before he spoke,

"Romeo says he knows how te' use a gun, which would also be helpful. You remember that Roc was a shit shot don't yeh'...?" Connor glanced at Murphy and lowered his voice even further, "Also…Roc was a criminal."

Murphy huffed and Connor felt the tension as it settled in his twin,

"We don't know that Romeo _isn't_ a criminal."

"He's not…" Connor said surely, "…an' yeh' do know et', Murph." and he was sure, just as he knew Murphy was.

Romeo lacked the jaded, wary and cynical edge of a man who'd been on the wrong side of the law. Connor doubted that Romeo had ever even done an overnight lock up stint for a DUI or some other mild shit. He was probably more of a cardboard gangster, so to speak, but he held a conviction and a clarity that Connor appreciated. Romeo came across as being the sort of guy who didn't flake on you, Connor obviously didn't know him well enough to call him a man of honor just yet, but Romeo certainly did have a look of determination and genuine enthusiasm to kill bad guys on his face when he talked about it.

Romeo was the opposite of Rocco, who had been a criminal and then had begun a revenge vendetta against the mafia, and Romeo was unlike Noah who had been killing people as an occupation for so long that it had been all about the satisfaction and power for him, before he'd eventually become jaded and desensitized.

And all of those differences aside, a third gunman was never really a bad thing.

It meant there was an additional person to watch their backs…to watch Murphy's back, the doing of which mattered a whole hell of a lot to Connor.

Murphy was staring at the deck, he looked resigned and Connor expected his twin had thought it out and as per usual, they were on the same page. There were more pros than cons that would come with letting Romeo join them.

"So, we put him on a trial run?" Murphy asked after a minute, glancing at Connor.

Connor nodded, figuring that would be best, but as he glanced at the brighter night sky something more important came to mind, something he really wanted that could not be ignored…was time alone with his twin. And the closer they got to land, to NY, the closer they got to having time alone,

"Aye…" he nodded and looked at Murphy who looked at him as well, "…but not right away, I said we'd take the night an' we will." He smirked when Murphy pursed his lips and nodded. Murphy was fidgeting a lot, he had been all day, at the moment his legs were swinging from side to side absently as he picked at his nails in between fiddling with his lighter…he was just as restless as Connor.

Just as frustrated.

"So what do we tell Romeo about tonight?" Murphy asked quietly, bringing a hand up to run his finger along the shell of his ear as he glanced at Connor with a subtle smile.

Connor smiled more obviously, glancing around,

"We tell him we'll catch up with him in Boston, tomorrow night," since it was almost 1 AM that would be almost 48 hours from then, "…we'll say that we have something personal te' take care of in New York." Connor lowered his voice, "Then we'll book into a hotel an' _then_ …well, I'll leave the rest up te' yer' imagination." He grinned and he watched as Murphy did too, they were both undoubtedly on the same page about what would happen the second they were alone.

Christ, Connor wanted to put his mouth _all over_ Murphy and he wanted to fuck him deep and slow and hard and hot and wet and _fuck_ …he was going to get hard if he didn't stop that train of thought.

When he looked at Murphy's face again –because his eyes had been wandering- his twin was smirking,

"What?" Connor enquired, shifting so he could cross one leg over the other as he leaned more of his weight back against the winch.

Murphy raised his eyebrows, subtly shaking his head at Connor's question,

"What's the plan fer' after the hotel?" he asked one of his own, sounding amused.

Connor gave Murphy a suspicious look before he considered the necessary question his twin had asked. Absently, his eyes drifted to the whiskey bottle but as he looked at it, Connor realized he wasn't actually up for drinking any more liquor right then so he looked at Murphy again,

"I was thinking we'd skip a cab, et'll be three times the fuckin' cost, so rather we take a late night bus te' Boston. Et'll be dark and even if et's crowded, nobody wants te' do anything more'n sleep on a night time bus trip, also, a cabbie might try te' make conversation." He shook his head, "We need te 'blend in and thas' easier te' do in a crowd." Murphy was looking at him and still smirking so Connor went on, "Once we get there, I thought we'd go straight te' Doc's, suit up an' then head out te' a few known mafia meet spots, stir up some trouble so that Yakavetta would get pissed off an' come after us, send us a couple of his important goons, ones we could beat some info out of, yeh' know, like about Yakavetta's location." Connor finished and Murphy was grinning now as he nodded.

Connor wondered what the fuck was so amusing and he raised his eyebrow in question, especially confused since Murphy wasn't trying to pick his plan apart and find something wrong with it. Murphy licked his bottom lip,

"An' here I thought we didn't have a succinct plan, per se…as et' were…" he gestured vaguely with his hand, just as he'd done when he and Connor had been bullshitting Romeo.

Connor smiled now, a real, full smile,

"Et' worked though, didnit? Turns out Romeo isn't clueless, might even be really useful." he pointed out and Murphy nodded,

"Aye, now we have our very own Mexican." He said with a sly smile.

Connor couldn't help it as he started snickering,

"Besides Murphy, et's not like what we do is rocket surgery…"

And that was all it took for them to crack up, making good natured fun of Romeo.

Honestly though, despite Connor's misgivings and the concerns he was sure Murphy had too, Romeo seemed like a decent guy.

Yeah, Romeo was alright.

* * *

There's a hundred thousand light bulbs but there ain't no switch...

* * *

About forty minutes after that conversation, Connor and Murphy had changed into their own clothes, dark blue jeans, black boots and dark gray long sleeve turtle neck shirts. With their minimal luggage in hand, the twins carrying only the essentials which left two bags in total, they were set to go.

The freighter had finally docked at the West Brooklyn port and the twins debarked from the container ship in quick strides, with Romeo not far behind. They'd told the Mexican exactly what they'd said they would, about having something personal to take care of in NY and that they'd meet up with him in two day's time in Boston.

Still, Romeo walked with them along the wharf toward the harbor exit. The twins had turned down the offer of a lift from the Mexican, since they intended to walk to wherever they would end up, as they'd done so many times when they'd lived in Boston and New York in the past.

Romeo seemed put out, as if he believed they were just telling him a story to get rid of him. Connor could tell that Murphy thought it sounded like a good idea to actually do that, because he was still hesitant to just accept this new person into something that should just be between them, but Connor hoped that Murphy would eventually come around. So he reassured Romeo that they had every intention of getting in touch with him when they got to Boston and Murphy hadn't said otherwise.

Romeo apparently believed Connor's sincerity, trusting as he was of the heroic 'Saints' and Connor smiled nicely at him despite wanting to make fun of Romeo's previous pouting. Connor noticed though, when he glanced at his twin standing a little ways off, smoking and shifting restlessly, that Murphy just half rolled his eyes at the entire situation, looking increasingly impatient.

He wanted to get going, so they could be alone somewhere and Connor knew it.

Romeo quickly gave Connor his cell number when he too noticed Murphy's impatience, obvious as it was. Romeo wrote it nearly illegibly onto the white inside of a hard empty cigarette pack he'd just ripped apart and as he placed the single cigarette he'd had in the packet on his ear, Romeo had suggested that Connor and Murphy get cellphones, because it was 2008 and people these days apparently all had cellphones.

Connor had been honestly impressed by the color and touch screen phone that Romeo had, cell phones had come a long fucking way from the last time he'd seen one. He suddenly felt as though he was seriously out of touch with the world though.

Living in isolation would do that you.

Decidedly through with the chit chat and very eager to be alone with Murphy, Connor told Romeo again that he'd call him when they got to Boston and then they'd parted ways.

* * *

* * *

Living in darkness, fearin' the night,  
Oh what a feeling when I see that light…

* * *

The walk had been far, it took over an hour before they were making their way through a somewhat more familiar area outside of Red Hook, Brooklyn. At that time of the morning the streets were empty and nothing but gas station stores were open, which meant that at least they could purchase smokes and something to snack on until breakfast, since they weren't particularly hungry.

Despite wanting to hide themselves from view under layers of clothing, they had shed their thick jackets because while Brooklyn was chilly, the walk kept them warm due to the long since experienced physical exertion, so they weren't really feeling the cold. Connor had already assessed himself and Murphy out of paranoia when they'd been leaving the harbor, deciding they looked normal and inconspicuous enough. Their turtlenecks were intended to cover all of their incriminating tattoos and with minimal luggage, even without their jackets on, they fit the picture of being two guys from out of town, just visiting Brooklyn.

And how they looked mattered, because presently Connor spotted a hotel that looked like it was mid-tier, not run down or cramped but also small enough that it wouldn't be busy and popular and overpriced and there was a greater chance of a mid-tier hotel accepting a cash payment and a security deposit. Also, at 2.52 AM, the staff would be bored and tired and only as observant and pleasant as they absolutely needed to be, which meant he and Murphy could probably slip under anyone's radar as long as they looked nondescript.

Connor hoped as much.

Also, they did look fairly different than they had as younger men, which was a good thing when trying to stay incognito. If anything might have caused a problem it would have been their tattoos and their accents, but the tattoos weren't visible and Connor did a fucking excellent American accent, so that wouldn't be a problem.

 _Hopefully_.

He felt like he was being overly paranoid but Connor tried to shake it off as they approached the lit up establishment on the street they were currently walking. The hotel was about four floors high, not overly large as Connor had seen from a distance and there was only a single car parked out on the curb in front of the hotel.

As Connor eyed the building, he took a long drag on the cigarette he'd been smoking, the third one he'd had since they purchased smokes at a gas station just after they'd left the harbor. Connor stopped walking once they were just outside the hotel entrance and he glanced at Murphy, who stopped beside him, exhaling clouds of smoke that were visible against the dark blue, starless sky.

Murphy raised an eyebrow at him after glancing at the small hotel,

"Yeh' want te' stay here?" he asked quietly, uncertainly.

Connor regarded his twin for a moment as he repeated the question to himself mentally, because he knew they'd both feel less paranoid if they found some dingy, shit motel or shabbier hotel to stay the night in. Especially since the news had probably been re-running their old composites due to the priest they'd been framed for killing, so staying away from well lit, out in the open places was a wise thing to do.

But it had been so many years since anyone had seen them...

…and that aside, the truth was that Connor didn't want to spend the night with Murphy in some shithole. He wanted hot water, clean sheets, thicker walls, privacy and comfort.

Was having that for one night worth taking the chance of them being recognized?

Murphy was watching him and said twin's eyebrow hiked up further as he dropped his cigarette filter onto the sidewalk and crushed it under his boot,

"Conn?" he said quietly.

Connor blinked and averted his gaze from Murphy's gorgeous face to look at the hotel entrance, he then glanced at his nearly finished cigarette and took a final puff from it as it occurred to him that the police would be focusing _most_ of their efforts on looking for the 'Saints' in Boston, where they'd be expected to show up. And the police maybe, possibly, also expected something big to happen, just as it had when the twins and Noah had taken out Papa Joe in public, because a priest was dead and everyone was expecting grandeur and mass bloodshed.

Which there would be, just not right away.

So maybe they could have that night, because no one was expecting the 'Saints' to book into a decent hotel and just spend the night there quietly and unobtrusively.

Connor found himself nodding at his own thoughts as he adjusted his bag on his shoulder and then he looked at Murphy again, who appeared a bit more worried now,

"Is that a good idea?" he asked quietly, stepping closer and inclining his head.

Connor flicked his cigarette filter away and nodded again as he blew out smoke,

"Aye, I think et' is…" he said quietly as well and then looked into his twin's blue eyes, "…yeh' trust me, right?"

It was unfair to ever ask Murphy that, because Connor never expected his twin to say 'no' and true enough, after a sigh and a weary look from Murphy, said twin nodded and chewed the inside of his lip, looking at Connor with a clear 'of course I do' expression on his face.

Connor gestured then for Murphy to follow him as he spoke just audibly for his twin to hear,

"Don't come te' the reception desk with me, stay with the bags an' I'll take care of the booking, aye?" it was poised as a question but really wasn't and again, Murphy just nodded.

Once inside the brightly lit lobby, Murphy took Connor's bag and went over to the sofa set in the lobby's waiting area. Connor glanced back and saw his twin place the bags down on a sofa before he sat down on the arm of one of the couches and made a point of looking anywhere but at Connor.

Connor focused back on the task at hand and as he approached the reception counter he made a quick evaluation; there was only one person on staff, a young man, probably in his mid-twenties. Connor extracted his wallet from his jeans pocket and licked his lips just as he came to stand at the counter and the man reluctantly looked up from his cellphone, placed it down and turned to Connor.

Cellphones were helpful, distracting little devices apparently, because the man's eyes darted back to his screen in a split second when the phone blipped and even though he didn't pick it up, Connor guessed it had more of his attention than Connor did, which was perfect.

"Hi…" Connor said in a neutral, dull American accent, super pleased with his luck.

The man smiled evenly, _as polite as was necessary_ ,

"Hello, sir, how can I help you?" he enquired, his eyes doing a quick scan of the lobby area. He must have spotted Murphy but his eyes were back on Connor without a second glance anywhere else, Murphy's presence absently noted and then dismissed for the moment.

Excellent.

"Yeah, I need a room, check out for tomorrow, so just one day…" Connor began as he opened his wallet to get out his fake I.D and then he remembered to ask, "…do you take cash?" he tried to look hopeful at the younger man, who was looking at Connor but his hand was fidgeting, turning the phone around and around on the lower, inner counter surface.

The man nodded, his badge said 'Kevin',

"Yes we do, sir, but we'll require a security deposit for the room up front."

Connor smiled, relieved and he nearly forgot he was using his American accent as an 'aye' nearly slipped out, but he recovered with a pleasant,

"Awesome, no problem." He handed over his I.D.

He waited as Kevin typed some information into a computer and then Connor paid the required amount for the security deposit, which was the equivalent of a three night stay including the night they were actually staying for. It was fine though, Connor had the money and he expected to get it back anyway. Unless he and Murphy broke a bed, which was an amusing thought but highly unlikely to happen, there'd be no excess costs incurred.

Once Kevin had counted the cash and typed out something else, he turned to Connor with that same just polite smile,

"What would you like, sir, you said one room, so…two beds?" he asked as his fingers hovered on the edge of the keyboard, his eyes briefly flitting over to Murphy.

Connor blinked as it occurred to him that _of course_ , two men checking into one room would usually mean two separate beds were needed. And if two brothers, grown men, were checking into a hotel, two separate beds would be a given, because that's something that people would expect…police would expect that too.

Connor smiled just politely as well as he shook his head at Kevin, decision made,

"No, one bed please."

Kevin glanced across the lobby more obviously that time, undoubtedly double checking that Murphy was indeed another man and then his eyebrows went up just slightly for only a second in an expression akin to realization,

"One room, two people, one…double bed?" Kevin clarified and his eyes shifted pointedly across the lobby to Murphy, probably because he was second guessing that Connor and Murphy were even there together, since Connor hadn't looked back at Murphy and said twin likely hadn't looked at him either since they'd walked in.

"Yes." Connor said evenly, looking for any signs of homophobia in the younger man. But Kevin didn't look disgusted, he actually looked pretty indifferent about it as his eyes darted to his beeping phone again in between typing on the computer.

Things really had changed in the western world, apparently two men checking into a hotel as a couple was not so big a deal. Back when they'd last lived in Boston and New York, Connor would have at least expected a disapproving or disgusted look, however subtle.

Connor waited another minute as Kevin finished up typing and clicking, he answered the miscellaneous questions Kevin asked about the booking and Connor took the risk of giving Romeo's cell phone number since there'd be no reason for the hotel to call the number anyway. He also gave a fake home address, claiming to be from Ohio and then he just nodded along afterward, listening as Kevin rattled off the time of the complimentary breakfast and some other information.

Kevin printed something out once everything was finally done and then he retrieved a key attached to a hotel branded tag and he handed the paper he'd folded up and the key over to Connor along with the fake I.D,

"Have a nice stay, sir." He said neutrally, even managing to smile as Connor nodded and then turned to walk away.

After a few steps, Connor glanced back out of curiosity and as expected, Kevin had already picked up his cellphone and was focused on it. Connor made a pleased face to himself as he approached Murphy and said twin saw him coming over so he stood up, picking up his bag, ready to leave or stay Connor guessed.

Connor showed Murphy the room key as he leaned down to pick up his single bag and Murphy nodded, eyebrows bobbing once before they both walked toward the elevator off to the side, Kevin barely glancing at them.

Connor waited until they were in the elevator before he spoke,

"T'was easy." He said quietly, not sure if the elevator had any cameras but keeping his head tilted downward just in case.

"Did yeh' use yer' Anerican accent?" Murphy asked with a shake of his head and half roll of his eyes.

"Aye, I did." Connor said proudly.

Murphy snorted and then licked his bottom lip,

"Nice hotel like this probably has cable T.V…" he pointed out and Connor scoffed,

"Are yeh' sayin' I might regret choosing this place, gonna' push me aside te' watch television, are yeh', Murph?"

Murphy smirked,

"…don't know, maybe, just depends what's on." He teased quietly, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.

Connor shrugged with feigned indifference,

"Fine, suit yerself', I'll take a hot shower an' use my hand an' my imagination." He mumbled.

Murphy's laughter –even as he tried to keep it in- was a good sign, seeing his twin smile with more than just a few teeth visible had become such a rare sight lately. Connor huffed out a few laughs as well and when the door of the elevator slid open on the floor marked on their key tag, he let out an honestly tired sigh,

"A fuckin' shower sounds good though." Connor said as they walked out side by side and down along the well-lit corridor. It was empty and quiet and when they reached their room number Connor unlocked the door and he let Murphy go inside first.

He followed his twin in right after, glancing around when Murphy switched on the lights in the room, which cast a soft warm glow over everything. Connor closed the door once they were both inside and he turned the dead bolt so no one could get in for any reason at all, not even the hotel cleaning service in the morning…in case he and Murphy overslept, which was likely.

Once inside, Connor felt a sense of relief set in, he felt like he could relax for the moment. He looked around the room once he walked further inside, it was a bit larger than the shittier hotel rooms they'd been in in the past, _much_ cleaner, fresher smelling, the bedding and furniture was in nice neutral colors, brown and white and all the décor matched. There was a mirror mounted and framed on the wall and large windows behind drawn curtains, there was also a small sized flat screen TV on a stand opposite the foot of the double bed.

Connor was about to walk further in to check out the bathroom but he hesitated when he noticed how Murphy was standing and looking at the bed, as if he'd only just noticed it was a double bed, _one_ double bed. Murphy had put his bag down on the floor in the corner and he was presently just standing and frowning at the bed.

Connor walked over to where his twin stood and as he placed the bag he'd been carrying down, Murphy turned to him,

"Why is there one bed?" he asked in a tone somewhere between curious and confused, "Did they have nothing available with two?"

Connor glanced from Murphy to the bed and back again.

Never, ever, had they ever booked a single bedded room.

And despite the fact that they were lovers, they almost never slept in the same bed before or since they'd started sleeping together, even specifically after sex, they usually slept in separate beds. Or they'd share a bed for a few hours and eventually one of them would go back to their own, so…Connor could understand Murphy's confusion.

Connor felt his face warm up for no good reason as he regarded his twin and opened his mouth to explain,

"Well, I had the idea when the receptionist just assumed we wanted two separate beds for two men, in one room, yeh' know, as just about anyone would-…"

"Aye, me'self as well." Murphy said with a 'what the fuck, Connor' look on his face, "What idea?"

Connor gestured to the bed,

"That the fuckin' cops would also just assume two high profile criminal brothers would book one room with two separate beds…" he said hastily and quiet, still red in the face for some reason he hadn't worked out yet, "…I know I'm probably being paranoid, but et' just seemed safer." He finished lamely.

Suddenly Connor was very aware of how stupid it sounded…and yet he'd had the very strong desire downstairs in the lobby to book a room with just one bed, for two people, for a _couple_ …so that he and Murphy could lay in it together, they could fuck their brains out and then have no option but to sleep next to one another all night, maybe even holding one another.

They'd never done that before either.

 _'_ _Jesus fucking Christ, did I do this just so I could_ _ **cuddle**_ _after sex?'_ Connor's thought only made him blush worse and he turned away from Murphy's still confused expression, his twin was obviously trying to decide if what Connor had said made enough sense to accept the explanation.

In the meantime, Connor ran a hand over his mouth and then through his untidy hair as he puzzled over the bizarre, woman-like feelings he was experiencing. Namely that he wanted to share a bed with Murphy, like a real couple, he wanted to indulge in that, he had a pretty strong desire for it right then, and it'd probably been there for some time but he'd just never had the chance to act on it, now though…

But Murphy…

"So I s'pose the guy at reception thinks we're a couple of que-…"

"Couple, Murphy, aye, he thinks we're a couple." Connor cut his twin off and then turned to face him again and shook his head at Murphy, "An' anyway, aren't we?" he asked quietly, very quietly.

Murphy cocked an eyebrow,

"-…a couple of queers-…?"

"A **couple** , yeh' fuckin' arse." Connor said through clenched teeth, narrowing his eyes irritably at Murphy, who was being unnecessarily difficult.

Murphy blinked, shifting restlessly and glancing from the floor to the wall and then only looking at Connor again,

"…s'pose, in a way." He mumbled.

Connor felt his irritation rise, he was angry at himself for being so girlish and sentimental and he was embarrassed because Murphy looked uncomfortable and it made Connor feel like he wanted things Murphy didn't want out of their relationship. So he was angry at Murphy too, because they weren't on the same page right then, after so many years as brothers and lovers.

Connor made a face and shook his head, throwing his hand out irritably,

"If et's too **queer** fer' yeh, et's fine, I'll sleep on the fuckin' floor…Christ." and he meant it too.

"Don't say et' like that, Connor, when I say queer, I just mean that et's a bit…et's…" Murphy was saying, or trying to say something and they were both speaking quietly, aware that they couldn't raise their voices,

"Et's what?" Connor asked tensely as he busied himself, dropping his wallet and other pocket contents noisily on the TV stand, despising how hurt he was about this stupid situation and trying to distract himself from it.

He heard Murphy sigh,

"…et's just not something we do, is all." Murphy said sounding like he felt as stupid as his statement sounded and then Connor heard him scoff, "An' yeh' know what, yer' the one who's always throwing words like _fag_ an' _poof_ an' _pansy_ around, so don't make me feel like an arsehole fer' saying _queer_."

Connor didn't need to look at his twin to know Murphy was probably standing and counting off the slurs on his fingers, giving Connor that slightly narrowed eye glare as he spoke. And when Connor did turn around again, he found almost that exact sight presented to him before Murphy huffed and stepped back to sit on the bedside.

Connor watched as Murphy glared at the floor, he didn't look upset really, more just confused and Connor figured he should just come out and say it, tell the truth and get it over with,

"I use those words, aye, but et's usually said in jest, yeh' know I don't mean anything by et'." Murphy just glanced at him. Neither of them wanted to admit out aloud that the only reason those words were a problem for them after their whole lives of using them, was because they were -without sugarcoating it, if they stripped it right down and were really honest about it- homosexuals, "An' what the fuck, even if et' is queer or whatever, Murph…" Connor clenched his jaw and then shrugged, leveling Murphy with a sincere look, "…I want te' share a bed with yeh', like a couple." He finished very quietly.

Murphy raised his head and his eyes met Connor's and held them for a few long seconds, expression unreadable.

When Murphy eventually nodded once, stiffly, and looked to the floor again, Connor decided he shouldn't press the issue since the only feelings he was reading from his twin's connection right then was confusion and anxiousness and Connor didn't know what Murphy was thinking, he couldn't even guess, but with those feelings it couldn't be anything good, so he dropped it.

Feeling unpleasantly let down and sort of hollow, Connor mumbled that he was going to take a shower and after digging through his bag for his toothbrush and some toiletries, Connor did as he said he would, disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Once he was –depressingly- alone behind a closed door, Connor sighed and shook his head, thinking himself an idiot for believing one bed was a good idea, he hadn't even considered what Murphy might think of it and his paranoid reasoning involving the police carried very little weight since Connor knew it was ridiculous to think that the police would be monitoring hotels for suspicious check in's.

It was stupid, right?

He didn't know if it was or wasn't, he didn't even care right then, Connor just knew that his stomach was in knots and his pride and confidence had just taken a knock because clearly Murphy wasn't interested in _cuddling_ after sex. Christ. Connor shook his head again before forcing himself to move on, to just get over it, even though he had a sinking feeling they wouldn't be enjoying the hotel room in the way he'd hoped for, not after seeing the uncomfortable look on Murphy's face minutes earlier.

Connor placed his toothbrush and toiletries down on the bathroom counter before he undressed quickly, untidily folding his clothes and placing them on the tiled counter space beside the basin as well. He yanked the shower door open and started up the water then waited for it to heat up under his outstretched hand before he grabbed the untouched hotel soap bar out of the decorative basket and he stepped into the shower. Connor pulled the stained glass door closed behind him a bit loudly, angry at himself but sad as well, just generally feeling like shit. He slowly inhaled the heat and steam before he stepped under the hot spray, closing his eyes as he let the water rinse and ease away the salty sea air clamminess and the weariness from his skin and bones. But it did nothing about relieving the stress caused by the delicate complications of his life, negative thoughts running rampant in his mind and giving him a headache…

…at some points the obstacles of his and Murphy's life just got him down.

They were brothers, twins, but they were in love and they were incestuous…so they kissed and they fucked and they loved each other in sin, but in the end they were _still –_ _ **always would be**_ _-_ _brothers_ , so they couldn't be a couple, not really, not ever. They could never live like a couple, shouldn't sleep in a bed like a couple, no cuddling, no dates, no settling down, no homemaking, none of that lovey-dovey emotional gay shit…that was how it had to be, right?

Connor didn't even know _why_ he was thinking about that stuff, he'd never had the desire for it with women. But Murphy wasn't _women_ , he was **Murphy** and he was _everything_ to Connor.

So could Connor really blame himself for wanting _everything_ with Murphy?

He leaned back from under the spray and ran his hand over his face to clear the water before he opened his eyes and stared at the clean gray tiles, the same hand absently swiping at the moisture on his smooth, shaven chest. Connor paused and then looked down at his chest when he remembered that Murphy had asked about it, about why he'd shaven, and Connor had brushed off the question at the time…but now he wondered if Murphy found the lack of hair unattractive, less manly somehow.

Fucking ridiculous.

Connor scoffed to himself, shaking his head at how truly stupid it would be for Murphy to get upset about _queer_ things if Connor's lack of chest hair made him feel less attracted to Connor as a **man**.

Christ, it was seriously about time they just admitted that they were gay and were done with it.

They'd both fucked women for a short period of time in the past and neither of them had been entirely satisfied by it, so who was to say that if they'd never taken that unspoken initial vow of celibacy, that they wouldn't have both gone on to have male sex partners after a few years.

Thinking about it right then, Connor remembered that from the beginning neither of them had had any gripes with the physical aspects of sex with one another, so considering that neither had ever thought of or been with another man in any sexual way before they got together, it was surprising. And Connor doubted that it was just because they were beloved twin brothers that they'd been so comfortable with anal sex and sucking each other's dicks. No, that made no sense, hence meaning that their quick acceptance of gay sex probably came from something latent within them, a subconscious desire, sexual attraction or interest in the male body maybe? Whatever it might have been, it was definitely not their twin-ness that was responsible for their homosexuality or bisexuality, or at least Connor didn't believe that it could be, because that would be pretty damn farfetched and strange.

And yet…almost fated, like destiny…in a queer romantic sort of way…

Connor sighed and shook his head as he adjusted the water temperature, remembering as if it were yesterday, every touch and kiss that he and Murphy had shared, none of which had ever disgusted either one of them, in fact they'd only ever felt closer and more connected for it…and the only thing that had come in to question and ever would, was the fact that they were brothers, which was understandable.

But _if_ things had gone differently and they'd never become incestuous, maybe they'd have been bisexual, though judging by how satisfying the sex was for them both, Connor was willing to think they might have ended up realizing they were gay eventually. Gay twins. They weren't the first of their kind, but it definitely wasn't a super common occurrence.

Dispelling the pointless train of thought, Connor sighed again and picked up the soap from where he'd left it on the ceramic built in soap dish before he wet it under the spray and then soaped up his hands.

Connor set about washing himself, running his sudsy hands over his chest and shoulders first before moving on to the rest of his body, leaving trails of soap sliding down over his warm skin as he inhaled the steam and the smell of sweet vanilla. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant scent mind you, the soap smelled better than the stuff in the cheap shit motels…and even the soap they'd used in Ireland.

He was re-soaping his hands for the fifth time, having washed his entire body, he was going to wash his hair next. But Connor stopped with his hands in mid lather when he heard something in the bathroom, only seconds before the shower door opened and Connor turned around to find a very, absolutely, completely naked Murphy stepping into the medium sized cubical with him.

Connor forgot to breathe as Murphy closed them in…and then they were naked…in the shower…together.

Connor dropped the soap…it slipped from his lathered, slack fingers as his eyes did a sweep over his naked twin's body, a sight he hadn't properly seen in so long that it made him _ache,_ so distracted that he didn't even flinch when the soap landed on his foot. Murphy brought him out of his staring in disbelief with a snicker,

"Seriously, Connor, yer' droppin' the soap in the shower." He joked.

Connor blinked a few times, registering what his twin had said but despite the joke being funny he didn't laugh or focus on it, he had to know,

"What are yeh' doin'?" because he and Murphy had one hundred percent never showered together, not as teenagers or adults, not for any reason. They'd bathed together as little kids, but from six or seven already they'd started bathing separately.

And hadn't Murphy been awkward and pissed off at Connor just minutes earlier for wanting to do something they'd never done before? What the hell was he doing in the shower with Connor then? Standing gorgeous and naked and so close…

Murphy smirked softly, his eyes trailing over Connor's own nudity - part of which included a rapidly forming erection - before he stepped forward, right up close and personal and so that they were only inches apart and Connor could feel Murphy's hardening cock brushing against his own as his twin spoke so near his lips, eyes half lidded,

"I was thinkin' about what yeh' said, an' I figured that if we're goin' te' start doin' queer things, like sleepin' in the same bed after **fucking** …" he said the last word with deliberate purpose, speaking huskily and Jesus, Connor had missed their flirting and their teasing, "…then we might as well go all the way an' start takin' long, hot showers together too." Murphy raised an eyebrow as his cool, rough hands slid up over the lingering soap suds on Connor's chest, his shoulders, up, up until Murphy's hands settled in his wet hair and Connor's cock could not have gotten any harder by that point, "What do yeh' think, Conn?" Murphy asked pointlessly.

Because not only could Connor not actually _think_ properly right then, but the answer was as positively obvious as his raging hard on for his twin. Connor smiled dazedly and exhaled somewhat shakily, it had been a long time since they'd been able to touch and he was feeling particularly desperate right then, for more, for anything.

He leaned in to kiss Murphy, lips parted as Murphy's were but said twin drew back, just out of reach, a grin stealing across his face and a quiet laugh teasing Connor before Murphy leaned back in, exhaling slowly, his hands sliding through Connor's hair as he slipped his tongue just inside Connor's mouth and drew back after their lips touched in a light press together, just enough for it to be a kiss but barely enough to satisfy.

Fuck, Murphy was going to drive him crazy if he kept teasing, it'd been too long, Connor couldn't stand it.

He grabbed Murphy's naked waist, turned them quickly and pressed Murphy to the cold, damp tiles, making his twin flinch and arch slightly into him. Murphy was smiling though, still amused even as he cursed a quiet 'ah, shit' at the cold wet surface touching his skin, his eyes never leaving Connor's. Murphy's next curse was a throaty and hitched 'fuck' when Connor pressed their hips together so that their erect sexes were side by side, touching and sliding between their taut abdomens, Connor's cock slick and wet, Murphy's smooth and dry, both hot and throbbing. And Connor automatically gripped two handfuls of Murphy's ass to bring him closer still as Connor groaned low in his throat, his mouth open as he breathed deeply against Murphy's parted lips.

They kissed then and it was one of their 'dirtier' kisses, it was all tongue, wet and sloppy and greedy and Murphy seemed to want to suck on Connor's lips and tongue as much as he could. His hands tightened just a bit painfully in Connor's hair as the dampness of the steam on Murphy's skin coupled with the soap suds and the wetness of Connor's quickly made rubbing their cocks together just slick enough, just right.

It felt so fucking good.

There was just enough friction with every movement of their unsynchronized grinding and Murphy was making noises, new and _blissful_ noises and he was smiling in between every kiss, with every slide of tongue and smack of lips, just grinning and moaning softly. Connor had no idea what it was, but something was _different_ between them.

He'd known they were different after so many years, but he hadn't thought being together sexually would feel so different, so charged and intense, it felt as good and even better than it ever had to be touching Murphy.

They continued grinding their hips, their bodies and cocks sliding together as they kissed for a long minute. The hot water was still running partially on Connor's side and back as his hands slid all over Murphy's damp naked skin, feeling the familiar and yet subtly different landscape of his twin's body, still smooth skinned and well-muscled.

Connor broke off the kiss to give some attention to the skin of Murphy's neck and his twin leaned his head back against the damp tiles to give him room to do so as Murphy's hands, blunt nails, were raking down through Connor's hair and down the back of his neck before one of his hands came around to caress the front of Connor's throat and then slowly up over his jaw and cheek.

Murphy exhaled slowly and then he hummed,

"I fuckin' hated yer' wizard beard." He said out of the blue and Connor huffed out a laugh against his twin's throat, causing Murphy to laugh quietly as well. Connor drew back so he could look at Murphy, their bodies coming to rest stationary, hot and slick against one another and Connor lovingly memorized the sight of his twin right then. Murphy's heated eyes were bedroom sexy, desire and lust shining clearly in the intense blue, his skin was damp and was a healthy flushed color, his dark hair was sticking to the gray tiles in some places and to his forehead and face in others and his lips were kiss swollen. Connor smiled softly,

"I wasn't too fond of et' either, an' yer's too." He admitted, speaking inches from Murphy's lips.

Murphy's hands shifted slowly over Connor's wet skin, his fingers massaging, tapping, caressing and smoothing over the skin of Connor's shoulders and neck,

"Aye, et' made et' shit te' kiss yeh', all that fuckin' hair, felt like I couldn't get te' yer' mouth properly…" Murphy admitted, frowning and pulling his face and Connor smiled in amusement, wondering if maybe that was why Murphy had been so preoccupied with sucking at his lips a few moments ago, "…fuckin' _hated_ that beard." He repeated before he closed his eyes.

Connor was surprised by the sweetness of Murphy's arms encircling his neck and Murphy pecking a kiss to his lips before pressing his face into the side of Connor's neck, nosing at the line of his jaw…and the action was so much like…in fact it **was** …a _nuzzle_ and Connor held back a content sigh at the well of fuzzy-warm emotions it roused in him because this was exactly what he'd been subconsciously wanting for so long.

Yet he'd only realized it that very night and right then Murphy was giving in to it too.

That was how in sync he and Murphy were and it was perfect and sweet and intimate, just as it should be.

"I missed yeh'." Murphy mumbled as Connor pressed kisses to his twin's neck and lightly freckled shoulder before he smiled against Murphy's skin,

"Aye, I missed yeh' too." He admitted honestly.

They stayed that way for a moment and then Connor's kisses and Murphy's quiet increasing breathing against his neck led Connor to kiss Murphy's mouth again. And being in the close circle of Murphy's arms just invited Connor to press closer, skin to skin as much as was possible, everywhere possible and he tilted his head in order to kiss Murphy that much deeper…and no matter what, Connor would never get tired of it and he'd always want it to be that way.

Murphy. It was just about Murphy.

Connor felt Murphy's arms shift, slipping away until his hands found Connor's shoulders and pushed him back so their lips separated with a wet smack,

"Turn the water off." Murphy instructed quietly as he stepped away from the wall and turned Connor so his back was facing the taps again. Connor had forgotten all about the running water, so he did as told, watching Murphy as he reached behind himself quickly, glancing at the taps only once to locate them before he shut off the water.

When the taps were closed and everything seemed so much more silent, the steam continued to swirl around them, shifting with their deep breaths…and Connor watched Murphy slowly get down on his knees. It was something Murphy had done many, many times by now, something Connor had also done for Murphy, but Connor's cock throbbed and twitched painfully due to the length of time since it had last happened and also because of the particular situation they were in, the new scenario of Murphy sucking him off in the shower.

Murphy didn't tease that time, once he was situated he took Connor's cock in hand, stroked it a few slow times, licked his lips and then he took it into his mouth and _sucked._ Connor moaned somewhat loudly, bracing himself with his hand and forearm on the wall and glass either side of him as he was overwhelmed with several pangs of honest to God pleasure of the best kind.

"Fuck, Murphy…" Connor breathed out as his twin sucked his cock as if he'd been starved for it.

Connor watched in a pleasure filled daze as Murphy's head bobbed steadily, his lips stretched and shaped to Connor's cock and on every fifth or so tight suck and stroke of his hand, Murphy deep-throated Connor, just about swallowing every inch of Connor's long, thick sex. And Connor knew that Murphy always had a hard time managing that, even right then he could see his twin's eyebrows draw together from the strain of it on each attempt, but Christ he was trying and nearly succeeding and it was fucking incredible.

"Are yeh'…tryin' te' make me come?" Connor breathed out as his toes curled against the cooling, wet shower floor tiles and Murphy just glanced up at him and bobbed his eyebrows as his free hand ran up and down the back of Connor's tensing thigh. Murphy's other hand stroked Connor's cock in between his deep and shallower sucks and Connor tried to find the coherence to tell Murphy to slow down among the curses and breaths and moans that he couldn't help.

His fucking eyes were nearly crossing at the sheer pressure and slick heat of his twin's amazing mouth and Murphy was unrelenting…Christ, Murphy's tongue was just as torturous every time he sucked over and off the head of Connor's cock and then took in an audible and unsteady breath before he went right back to it.

Connor could hear and focus on nothing but his and Murphy's breathing, his own moaning and the soft wet sounds of Murphy sucking his cock…and then there was Murphy's hand massaging and rolling his balls sensually just when Connor had been contemplating removing a hand from the glass to take a loose hold of his twin's dark, damp hair, but his legs were shaking right then and he needed the support.

It was the right decision too because Murphy's fingers slid behind his balls and –the sly bastard that Murphy was- he went in for another deep suck just when a finger -slick with spit or pre-come, sweat or steam, soap or water, but slick none the less- slipped up into Connor's asshole with very little resistance, causing Connor to shudder, feeling weak in both discomfort and strange pleasure.

Connor's mouth fell open on a shaken exhale, his eyes clenching shut as he groaned, frowning at the foreign sensation of Murphy fingering him, in and out slowly. And in reaction to the subtle pressure inside his anus when Murphy pressed his finger in all the way, Connor thrust his hips forward, his cock slipping too far into Murphy's mouth and gagging him for the first time in years, since Connor was so careful not to do that usually.

But the feeling of something inside his ass threw him off and he breathed out a quick apology, despite Murphy's lack of complaint over the slip as he continued sucking and fingering Connor.

The thing was, Connor didn't bottom. He'd only done it _once_ many, many years ago when Murphy had explicitly asked him to. It had been back when they'd been living in New York for a while and Connor hadn't been able to decline since Murphy had wanted to try swapping their usual positions. And it had been good-ish, different and Connor had come quicker than he ever did usually, but he honestly felt he could do without it, he didn't really like it over all. Having Murphy's cock inside him had been worth it though, it was something he'd wanted and needed to experience, but once had been enough for him and Murphy had accepted that, bless him, he was really accommodating.

That being as it was, Murphy's finger being in his ass after so long since the last time he'd prepped Connor for sex in that way, it came as an unexpected mixture of pleasant and weird sensations that Connor wasn't sure what to do with.

But Murphy was really going for it, not giving Connor a chance to focus on it too much, instead blurring his mind with pleasure as Murphy slipped his finger in and out faster and none too gently, once, twice, a few times more as he sucked firmly on Connor's cock and breathed deeply through his nose and when he gripped the back of Connor's thigh and pressed his finger in deep, crooking it just so inward against Connor's sensitive prostate, that time Connor was sure his eyes did cross as he moaned loudly…

…and he was coming unbidden into his twin's mouth in the next second, unable to stop it from happening.

Connor was shaking as he felt Murphy's throat tense up around his throbbing cock, his twin swallowing once before Murphy slowly drew back and let Connor's cock slip from his mouth into the care of his stroking hand. Connor watched in a pleasured daze as Murphy spat a glob of semen out onto the tiles at the side of his knee, while Murphy's hand continued to stroke Connor's sex, several jets of come landing on Murphy's chest and thighs and making Connor moan again quietly at the sight.

Connor knew, even as his brain was complete mush, that Murphy had no problem with swallowing. Since their sexual comfort with one another had long ago been established, neither of them shied away from any aspect of sex. So Connor knew that Murphy only turned away from swallowing depending on how much Connor came at a time, otherwise Murphy would usually swallow it all.

This time had been a lot and it didn't surprise Connor, because he'd been so pent up for such a long time.

Connor inhaled shakily all the while as his orgasm happened and then slowly, so slowly, it passed.

Murphy stayed on his knees –despite the fact that they were probably hurting at that point- his free hand sensually stroking over Connor's defined abdomen for a moment before Connor felt Murphy withdraw his finger from inside of him, and Connor grimaced just slightly at the feeling.

Connor was still using the wall and shower door for support as he watched Murphy kissing along the line of his Adonis belt, both his hands now stroking the backs of Connor's thighs,

"Christ, Murph…" was all Connor managed to say as his twin pressed kisses to his skin with reddened lips.

Murphy looked fucking amazing, his dark hair was untidy and clinging to his flushed face, his lips were swollen an irritable red color and they were so warm too, Connor felt it with every kiss. Murphy looked up at him with love and lust shining in his stunning eyes and after a few more kisses to Connor's lower abdomen - just above his pubic hair and nearly soft cock- Murphy spoke against his skin,

"I wish yeh'd let me fuck you again, Connor." He said quietly.

Connor exhaled softly and finally felt like he could take his hand and arm off the walls, so he did and his one hand automatically slipped into Murphy's hair to caress his scalp, making said twin close his eyes at the sensation as he leaned his forehead against Connor's stomach,

"Alright, Murph…" Connor said honestly, surprising himself by how easily he made that decision but he meant it, "…if yeh' really want te'." He acquiesced because for Murphy he'd do it, every once in a while wouldn't be so bad.

"Aye, I want to." Murphy said sincerely, his warm breath ghosting over Connor's sensitive, now flaccid sex.

Murphy stood up after a few more seconds, using Connor's waist as something to hold on to as he got to his feet and he grimaced at whatever ache lingered in his legs from the position he'd been in. Connor looked him over and he saw red tile lines on both of Murphy's knees and felt bad for it, so he placed his hands on the sides of his twin's face and he pulled Murphy in for a kiss. Connor then lavished his mouth with a very generous amount of attention.

Murphy's hands settled on Connor's waist as said twin kissed Murphy with a thorough open mouthed tongue fucking. It was all the right kinds of rough, especially in the way that Connor shifted Murphy's head to accommodate the kiss by using his twin's dark hair caught between his fingers. And he knew Murphy loved it because he moaned into the kiss and his cock was still so hard against Connor, trapped between their bodies.

Connor drew back from the kiss after a minute, his body heating up all over again as he took in the sight of Murphy's ridiculously aroused and panting appearance, his twin's blue eyes were bright with lust and need and Connor could feel it too, a steady thrum under his skin of a specific kind of desire in his brother,

"Yeh' want et' in here or on the bed?" Connor offered himself to Murphy as he loosened his grip on said twin's hair and held the side of Murphy's face gently.

Murphy looked at him for a moment, expression unguarded and revealing unbridled need and want plainly visible and it was turning Connor on all over again despite the fact that he'd need a decent resting time before he'd be able to get it up again.

Murphy grinned suddenly and leaned in, they kissed a few times, more lips than tongue and then he drew back,

"Not tonight," Connor frowned, "I got yeh' off just now fer' a reason, Connor…" Murphy informed him in a mischievous tone, "…I seem te' recall yeh' saying you were going te' fuck me so hard I'd be _biting my pillow_." He pinched Connor's side rather sorely and Connor winced, but he was only getting more turned on with every word and he was smiling all the same as Murphy grinned sexily at him, "An' so yeh'll need te' last longer than five minutes te' be any good te' me…leannán." He raised an eyebrow matter of factly as he slid his hands around to Connor's lower back and caressed the damp skin there.

Fuck, Murphy had no idea what he was able to do to Connor…but then again, he probably did.

Connor forgot to breathe again at hearing Murphy call him 'lover' and he licked his lips as he glanced down at his own cock, feeling annoyed at his biology and the fact that he needed to recuperate between erections,

"T'was a good plan in theory, Murph, but I'll be needing more than stamina-…" he gestured at his soft cock between them to make his point, "…if I'm te' fuck yer' brains out."

Murphy just kept grinning as he stepped right into Connor, front to front, skin to skin and their lips met as Murphy reached his hands out to evenly open the taps behind Connor so that the shower spray wet them both gently while they kissed each other in loving pecks, just soft presses of their lips together.

Murphy drew back after a long sensual moment so that his head wasn't under the light spray of water,

"Aye, I know that, Conn…so go an' rest up while I take a shower." He said sincerely, voice laced with love and affection that made Connor feel stupidly giddy.

Connor nodded at his twin, his eyes –blinking against the water falling on his head- conveying every ounce of the love he felt for Murphy and he knew Murphy saw it, felt it, because his expression softened just that much more right before Connor kissed him again, bringing Murphy back under the spray with him. And water caught on and between their lips, slipping into their parted mouths as they deepened the kiss, their tongues sliding into one another's mouths in slow laps and strokes, all the while the spray forced them to close their eyes, also stifling their breathing after too long, and so ending the kiss for them far too soon.

They separated then with soft, intimate smiles and a few lingering touches before Murphy stepped back and gave Connor some room. Said twin gave his hair a quick soap up and then his whole body a quick rinse down and after they'd switched positions so that Murphy was standing under the spray, rubbing his hands through his hair as the water slid down his neck and shoulders, Connor found he couldn't resist…

…he leaned in and pressed a kiss just beneath Murphy's ear, making his twin stop moving and turn his head slightly to look over his shoulder as he lowered his arms. Connor slid a teasing hand down his twin's abdomen, but he didn't let his hand go too far down before he slid it back up and caught one of Murphy's hard nipples between his index and middle finger,

"I'll be waitin' fer' yeh'." He said in a low voice against Murphy's ear and he felt his twin shiver, his skin breaking out in goose pimples all over.

Satisfied that he'd titillated Murphy rightly, Connor then left the shower with a grin on his face.

* * *

…with you, with you  
Our colors come alive when I collide with you.

* * *


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ NOTES:
> 
> -THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME MILD BUT SEXUALLY EXPLICIT IMAGE CONTENT, TREAD LIGHTLY IF YOU'RE NOT INTO VISUAL GAY RELATIONS REAL OR OTHERWISE. IF THE IMAGES USED OFFENDS YOU PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I WILL SEE ABOUT REMOVING IT FROM THE STORY.
> 
> -I do not own any of the lyrics or images used in this story, nor do I own any rights to the Boondock Saints franchise.
> 
> -I'd like to thank Lyson, a fellow author on AO3 and friend -and occasional proof reader- for their artwork which is used in this chapter and previous chapters, but especially for the ones used here in this upload because I didn't request art this time and I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.

* * *

It's poetry carved in flesh  
This beautiful hell of ours  
To the deadliest sin we confess  
We are safe where disfigured Saints  
Cry out their prophecies of doom…

* * *

After Connor left the shower and Murphy was closed in and by himself, he felt an odd butterfly feeling in his stomach that made him feel every bit as _queer_ as sleeping together in a bed intentionally, on purpose and _every time_ would feel. Because even though they had technically only spoken about it in terms of that night, Murphy knew that it would become a thing, they'd end up doing it whenever they could.

They didn't need to say it, Murphy just knew that that was what was actually behind Connor's words.

 _'…_ _I want te' share a bed with yeh', like a couple.'_

It had taken Murphy by surprise when he'd entered the hotel room, seeing just one bed meant for both of them. But he doubted Connor knew _why_ it had unsettled him. Murphy felt bad, he knew he should have explained himself instead of sitting there quietly and letting Connor get inside his own head, because that's what Connor did, he could drive himself crazy sometimes when he started over thinking things and Murphy hated being the one to cause that.

But he supposed Connor forgave him since he'd gotten into the shower and made it up to his twin _and then some_.

Presently Murphy was standing with his head and body under the hot spray of water, eyes shut and head tilted down so the water ran off his nose and chin. He was breathing through his slightly parted –swollen- lips as he smiled to himself…because his jaw hurt slightly from his successful effort to please his twin, that blowjob had been one of his best in all honesty and Connor had definitely enjoyed it.

Murphy had enjoyed it too, his own erection wasn't flagging because he could still taste Connor, bitter and the texture of his come thick and still slightly clinging to Murphy's tongue. It had been quite a while since tasting his twin. He licked his lips thinking of how good it had felt to take as much of Connor into his mouth as he could, he was never able to completely manage it but he'd come fairly close just now.

Murphy removed his head from under the spray and shook it to clear some water from his hair before he wiped a hand over his face and he tilted his head back to take a mouthful of the hot water in. He swished it around his mouth and then spat it out, deciding it was time to get clean and meet Connor in the bedroom.

Murphy picked up the soap from where Connor had replaced it on the soap dish, smirking as he remembered his earlier joke to Connor when he'd dropped the soap. Murphy snorted to himself as he soaped up his hands and then begun to wash himself and he couldn't help thinking about what the night would hold once he left the shower. He'd been looking forward to it since before they'd left Ireland, the chance to be alone _alone_ with Connor again, so they could be together properly after so long.

And Murphy had been really turned on when Connor had agreed to take the submissive position for the night, he'd even easily offered it up which meant a lot to Murphy. Because Murphy knew Connor didn't like being on the receiving end during sex, they'd established that long ago, whereas Murphy didn't mind, in fact, as much as it made his ears and face flush with embarrassment, he really liked it.

Of course, that one time he'd fucked Connor, he'd **really** liked it too.

But even though Connor had been willing, Murphy decided he would call him on that offer at another time. All he wanted that night was to have Connor inside of him, to feel the weight –closeness, connection- of Connor's body over his own and to be able to just let go and give in to whatever pleasure Connor would give him.

Murphy soaped up his hair and washed it, leaving the suds in as he continued washing his body in a bit of a hurry.

He tried not to think too hard about how sinful his thoughts of his twin were, sometimes it still surprised him how easily he'd taken to sex with Connor, to **loving** sex with Connor, anticipating, wanting, _needing_ it. He never felt ashamed about any of it, about anything they did together sexually. Murphy loved Connor and that was all that mattered when they lay together as more than brothers.

A few minutes later, Murphy was letting water run over his body to clear the soap suds once he'd finished washing and then he rinsed the soap out of his hair and rubbed the resulting trailing suds into his face absently until they too rinsed away. He stood under the water for a further minute before turning the taps off and casting himself into silence as the water swirled down the drain at his feet.

Murphy opened the shower door and grabbed one of the hotel towels, which were placed on a rack to the left of the shower. He wrapped it around his waist as he stepped out, before grabbing another towel and roughly rubbing it over his sopping wet hair. When he'd ruffled his dark hair into a positively crazy but now only slightly damp mess, he placed the hair towel on the bathroom counter and he glanced at Connor's untidily folded clothes and toothbrush, all forgotten in lieu of the instruction Murphy had given him to wait and recuperate in the bedroom.

It was amusing as all hell, but Murphy wouldn't tease Connor about it since his own clothing was strewn about on the floor, all along the way to the bathroom, leaving an obvious trail that just screamed haste and eagerness to get into the shower with Connor.

Christ, they were certainly a couple of queers…but more importantly, they were a couple.

Murphy stepped over his strewn clothing as he left the bathroom and walked back into the hotel room.

He immediately noticed the dimmed lighting –he hadn't even noticed a dimmer on the light switch- and then he looked to the bed, to where Connor was sitting up. He was obviously naked, Murphy knew that, but his lower half was covered by the white hotel bed cover, he was sitting with his legs bent up, his forearms rested on his knees as he held a lit cigarette suspended between his fingers.

Murphy watched Connor exhale a stream of smoke as his twin deliberately gave him a slow, sensual once over, his eyes lingering on the obvious tenting beneath the towel at Murphy's crotch,

"Lose the towel, Murph." He said quietly before taking another drag from his cigarette.

Murphy glanced down at the towel around his waist but made no move to remove it, instead he walked to the bed and got onto it, moving toward Connor on his knees. Connor leaned back against the pillows and headboard and flattened his legs out to make room for Murphy as said twin straddled his thighs,

"You take et' off…" Murphy stayed up on his knees, looking down at Connor.

Connor smirked, his own erection was noticeable as it made a slight rise underneath the duvet, and he put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the bed side before he brought his hands to the loose knot of the towel, easily pulling it open so that it fell off, leaving Murphy naked, his arousal on display. Murphy watched his twin watching him, Connor's eyes were half lidded, his gaze heated and his rough hands came up to firmly caress Murphy's hips, sliding down over the front of his thighs before Connor's right hand skimmed back up and up to where he stroked Murphy's hard cock, pressing it to Murphy's firm abdomen with his warm palm.

Murphy chewed the inside of his lip at the light friction, the teasing pressure and when Connor took him properly in hand and started to stroke him gently but earnestly, Murphy exhaled slowly as he watched his twin's hand slowly masturbate him.

Connor's other hand was on his thigh, lightly caressing, purposely light, just like his hand on Murphy's cock.

Murphy brought his hand to cover Connor's on his erection and he squeezed his twin's hand and moved it faster,

"Ah, fuck you, Con…" his complaint came out breathy as he made Connor jerk him off more firmly.

Connor laughed softly as he watched Murphy and allowed his hand to be directed,

"I offered, yeh' said you'd rather I fuck you, remember?" he joked and then slipped his hand out from underneath Murphy's, leaving Murphy to stroke his own sex.

Murphy was about to complain again but then he felt Connor's hands on his inner thighs, pushing them apart. Murphy let his legs slide apart so he was still on his knees but now also sitting back on his legs, straddling Connor, his own hand still stroking himself as Connor's hands massaged the muscles of his thighs.

It felt good, Connor's hands on him, however slow and teasingly Connor was touching him, Murphy also liked it when it was slow and intimate, he liked it as much as he liked it when it was passionate and fast and hot. He just plain liked it as long as it was him and Connor and Connor and him.

Murphy's cock throbbed and he made a soft moaning noise when one of Connor's hands moved up between his legs, fingers cupping Murphy's scrotum and then caressing over his perineum until they were teasing Murphy's anus, gently rubbing around and probing inward. Connor's fingers were dry though so they wouldn't be able to slip inside Murphy without hurting, but it was not Connor's intention, Murphy knew. Connor was just working him up, teasing him, making him want it inside, fingers or cock, and _fuck_ , it was working.

Murphy moaned quietly when Connor palmed his balls again before his hands patted Murphy's waist once, a silent instruction for Murphy to move and he did, he stopped masturbating himself before shifting to sit on his side beside Connor as said twin threw the covers off himself, revealing his naked, aroused state.

It was ridiculous that despite his jaw still being sore, Murphy felt the strong desire to use his mouth on Connor again.

Connor got up onto his knees on the bed and directed Murphy with firm, warm hands on his thigh and his waist, for Murphy to turn over and get on all fours on the bed. Murphy did as directed, spreading his legs and exposing himself to his twin whilst on his hands and knees, his body hot and his blood pumping furiously through his veins, making his cock strain and leak as he anticipated Connor fucking him –with a neediness he would never voice. Especially as Connor got behind him and rubbed his sex along the cleft of Murphy's ass, pressing further in so his cock was between Murphy's buttocks and was rubbing slowly, up and down, over and against Murphy's anus teasingly.

Murphy exhaled shakily as he leaned his weight on one arm and started stroking his cock again, spreading the moisture of his gathered pre-come over his sex as he did so and worrying his lower lip as the pleasure from his hand and Connor's ministrations made his muscles tense and his body ache with arousal and pleasure. Connor's hands were caressing over Murphy's back and his hips as he moved and Murphy was tempted –after a long minute- to ask why Connor was simulating sex as opposed to actually having it.

Not that it didn't feel really good to be rubbing and touching, but Christ, it had been too long since they'd been together for drawn out foreplay. Murphy wanted to come with Connor inside him, not randomly into his own hand.

At the same time that Murphy removed his hand from his cock because he _did not_ want to bring himself off prematurely, Connor's touch was gone and Murphy glanced back to find Connor sitting back on his legs, just sitting and _looking_. And then Murphy had to balance on both forearms when Connor suddenly pushed his legs further apart, exposing him further before he felt Connor's hands on his ass cheeks and his twin's –more than likely- thumb was rubbing, pressing and stretching at his sensitive anal pucker.

Murphy felt himself blush even underneath all of his already warm, flushed skin. Connor always fingered Murphy prior to sex as basic prep, but he'd never just _touched_ and _looked_ , as he was doing right then, because Connor and Murphy didn't indulge in what could crudely be considered 'ass play'. Well, Connor never did it, so Murphy didn't experience it, would be more accurate to say.

Experiencing it now, Murphy felt kind of sleazy.

But he couldn't deny that the attention turned him on like crazy and he was starting to feel dizzy as Connor's touch left his ass before returning, wet, and Connor pressed not one thumb, but both, into Murphy's anus.

Murphy exhaled shakily on a moan, Connor's thumbs didn't go even as deep as the first knuckle but he was stretching the ring of muscle open by pressing his thumbs in opposite directions and the _feeling_ of it was so dirty – a little sore and hot, sleazy, sexy- that Murphy had to force himself not to start masturbating again as a pang of arousal made his cock bead fresh pre-come where it hung stiffly between his legs.

It felt obscene…in a gloriously pleasurable way. Murphy felt like he'd be blushing for days.

"Connor, come on…" Murphy groan-whined, glaring weakly –head spinning and face hot- at the bed spread beneath him as Connor continued to _press_ and _stretch_ , "…the fuck are yeh' doin'?" Murphy breathed out, closing his eyes and licking his lips as another pang of arousal moved through him when Connor stretched downward and then pressed his thumbs in again slightly deeper.

"Am I hurting yeh'?" Connor asked quietly, but his voice was so husky, fucking thick with lust that Murphy actually raised his eyebrow and found himself wanting to just stay _quiet_.

He found himself wanting to let Connor do _whatever_ the fuck he wanted to do.

Murphy shook his head to himself before he answered,

"No…" he said softly, resting his head on one of his forearms, his hot, damp forehead sliding against the moisture on his arm and making the skin stick together along with strands of Murphy's hair.

He was frowning in pleasure and frustration, trying not to focus on the ache of his hard, neglected cock when Connor's hands settled on his buttocks and he felt his ass cheeks spread again…and then there was Connor's _tongue_ and Murphy blanched, jerking away from the wet, firm tip of Connor's tongue that had pressed lightly against his anus.

"…the fuck…" Murphy breathed out as he raised his head and he was about to glance back but then Connor did it again, a hot wet lick with the flat of his tongue sliding against Murphy's anal pucker and said twin shivered _violently_ , uncontrollably, as the never before felt sensation made his balls tighten and a thick drop of pre-come seep from his cock, leaking in a clear string slowly down to the bed, "Je-susfucking-christ-Con-aah..." Murphy broke off into another moan as Connor did it again, more firmly, pressing the tip of his tongue in _just so_ after the wet lick.

If someone had ever told Murphy that it felt so good to have his asshole licked, he would have definitely felt violated just hearing it, but right then, with that very thing happening to him, his mind pleasure hazed and feeling crazy horny because of the idea and the actual sensation of it, Murphy was shamelessly moaning at every lick and hot exhale from Connor's mouth against his sensitive anus, and he knew he'd want to experience it again and again in the future.

"Open up fer' me, Murph." Connor husked out in that super lusty tone as he pressed two fingers into Murphy, slowly and all the way to his second knuckles and even as Murphy felt himself twitch and tighten around his twin's long fingers, they did in fact slide in nice and easy.

Murphy huffed out a sound at the stretch he hadn't felt in a while before Connor withdrew his fingers and then his thumbs were back, stretching and teasing and rubbing. Murphy swallowed an embarrassingly needy sound as his cock strained,

"Conn…" he rasped out, forehead pressed onto his forearm again, breathing erratic and temperature hot.

"Yeh' think yeh' can take me without lube?" Connor asked but Murphy hadn't the chance to answer. He breathed out a short, loud whining moan, trembled from head to toe and clenched his eyes shut as Connor pressed his thumbs all the way in and then he stretched Murphy's asshole open before tonging at it again, all flicks and probes and licking and hot breathing.

 **Jesus fucking Christ**. Murphy would need to go to church after Connor was done, every lick of Connor's tongue to his stretched hole made him feel every single bit the **sinner** he was.

Murphy swallowed thickly and attempted to focus on Connor's question as he shivered with pleasure. He knew they had lube, Connor had bought earlier when they'd stopped to buy smokes at the gas station. But that didn't even really matter to Murphy right then as his mouth fell open when Connor pressed his tongue inward again, slightly breaching, going just _that much_ –dirty and intimate- deeper, wet and warm and Murphy was frowning as he moaned again and shook his head, exhaling brokenly and unsteady,

"Aaah, _Jesus_ fuck… I don't…fuckin' **_care_** …whatever, _Connor_..." He half whined and half demanded, Connor's name on his tongue sounding every bit like the desperate plea that it was.

Connor kissed Murphy's lower back then, in the dip of his spine, a _sweet_ gesture, considering Connor's thumbs were still inside and stretching Murphy's asshole open. It only made Murphy feel twice as dizzy as he sniffed and breathed heavily and his skin tingled and burned and sweated as he rubbed his face into the bend of his arm, trying not to _die_ of horniness.

Murphy opened his eyes and raised his head when Connor's touch was lost and the weight on the bed shifted. Murphy watched as Connor leaned up toward the bedside table where he picked up a sachet of lube he must have left next to the ashtray at some point. Murphy almost didn't recognize it since the last time he'd seen the packaging because it had changed after so many years, but he spoke up when the thought occurred to him that maybe Connor wanted to fuck him without the lube,

"Yeh' can go in dry, Conn, et's fine, if yeh' want to." He said sincerely, voice hoarse.

It would hurt at first, and some during, and definitely after, but Murphy had long since come to realize –on the occasion they'd had penetrative sex after their lube stash had been used up in Ireland- that Connor enjoyed the friction without synthetic lube far more. And Murphy would take it like that if Connor wanted it, such was their relationship. And it wasn't as if Murphy wouldn't enjoy it, after a while the pleasure always overshadowed the sore burn and ache and he'd come just as hard as ever.

Connor kissed his spine again after Murphy heard the rip of the sachet being opened, and then Murphy sucked in a breath and hummed out a moan when three lube slicked fingers pushed into him in one go. It stung and felt good simultaneously, sent more blood and heat straight to Murphy's neglected erection and he panted as Connor worked his fingers in and out steadily, twisting and scissoring them,

"Not tonight…" Connor repeated Murphy's earlier words while said twin was more focused on breathing as his rectum was attentively stretched and Connor _purposely_ only grazed and didn't press at Murphy's prostate.

Murphy just nodded to himself at his twin's simple words, not really paying attention to anything besides the fingers inside of him…up until they were removed, leaving his relaxed rectum twitching after the lack of fill. What came next was far better though –thicker, longer and about fucking time too. Murphy heard the squelch of lube and he pictured Connor slicking up his thick, stiff cock and his own sex throbbed at the same time as Connor was pressing his erection - blunt, smooth and slippery- against Murphy's anus.

It wasn't slow, it was quick and all the way in, balls deep in one push and Murphy groaned and exhaled heavily afterward, it hurt and _fuck_ , his legs felt weak from the pressure but he automatically pressed back on Connor's cock because there was always pleasure in that initial penetration.

And because of their deeper connection, it felt twice as good.

There was a beat of only their loud breathing that filled the hotel room, Murphy's skin prickling with sweat and Connor's hands rubbing at his waist, gripping Murphy's hips and then he started to **fuck**. It started with a handful of slow, deep thrusts from Connor before quickly turning fast, hard, forceful and after only one angle adjustment to stimulate his prostate _just right_ , Connor _reamed_ Murphy's ass just as he'd promised he would. Good, hard, fucking.

Jesus, it hurt…it hurt in the best fucking way, but it _hurt_.

Murphy made pathetic noises he very rarely allowed himself to make during sex as his eyebrows drew together and his body jerked forward roughly with each thrust, gradually he was turning into a tingling, sore, pleasured, shaking mess and Murphy found it hard to close his mouth or open his eyes.

The slaps of their skin resounded, mixing in with Murphy's moans and Connor's breathing and grunts for a steady period of time, several minutes maybe, Murphy had no idea. All he knew was that it felt good and it ached and it was sore and hurting and he needed to remember to swallow or he'd start drooling from the pain and pleasure and pressure and heat of Connor's cock steadily filling his ass.

It was a lot, it was overwhelming, the feeling, the depth, the stretch, the roughness…it was getting…to be too much…

"Ah, ah…aaah…fu-…Con-n-…aah…" Murphy whined brokenly, hands fisting the bed cover white knuckled as words barely made it out of his mouth, and that being the case he didn't manage say _stop_ when it did become too much, when it started to hurt more than it felt good, and Murphy could feel his erection quickly flagging. So he reached his hand back and just barely touched Connor's waist as said twin pounded into Murphy forcefully on his next thrust and Murphy's balance gave out with only one arm supporting him.

Murphy fell forward on that thrust, unable to keep himself up, he went face first into the pillow as he groaned out shakily and his body settled flat on the bed, tense and shaking. He wasn't aware at first that Connor had slipped from his body, but he was aware of the fear and concern in Connor's tone as said twin lay down beside him, touching his back in soothing, careful strokes, sweaty fingers on sweaty skin as he kissed Murphy's damp hair,

"Murphy, did I hurt yeh', are you okay…?" he was speaking in a whisper as if a loud tone of voice would hurt Murphy, "…yeh' should have said if yeh' wanted me te' _stop_."

Fuck, Murphy had wanted to, but he hadn't even been able to breathe properly.

"Murphy…" Connor's hand was sliding through his hair, "…would yeh' look at me, please?" he pleaded quietly and Murphy forced himself to move. He pushed himself to roll over onto his back, wincing as he did so, and Connor was instantly beside him again, shimmying closer, hovering over Murphy, kissing his lips and his forehead and his jaw and his ear, "Murph?" he whispered there.

"I'm ok…" Murphy answered, because he was ok, he was fine.

His ass ached, and it would probably hurt more in a few hours, but he wasn't injured or anything serious.

"Was I too rough?" Connor asked quietly, voice strained.

Murphy nearly said _yes_ but he'd just opened his eyes and was looking into the guilty expression on Connor's handsome face and he swallowed those words audibly, deciding to be less of a dick about it for his twin's sake,

"Yeh' could have eased up a bit." Murphy said with a small wince and smile as he adjusted his weight on the bed, he was sweaty and the material was sticking to him.

"Christ, fuck, I'm sorry…" Connor said sincerely as he leaned down and kissed Murphy soundly.

They kissed for a while, slow, sensual and on Connor's part, apologetic, as said twin pulled Murphy close to him, turning him onto his side by his waist so they were facing one another and Connor held Murphy there, their sweaty skin sticking slightly as they pressed close and their legs tangled. And with hands sliding through Murphy's hair and over the expanse of his naked skin, Connor licked at Murphy's mouth, sucked on his tongue and kissed his lips gently and attentively, the ministrations going a long way to easing the tension in Murphy's muscles and returning the blood to his cock.

When they stopped kissing and Murphy softly nipped at Connor's neck, said twin's hand smoothed down over Murphy's stomach, Connor taking Murphy's sex into his palm before he started to masturbate him. Murphy closed his eyes and hummed softly, his lips pressed to the front of Connor's warm, damp neck.

Murphy could still feel the guilt Connor was feeling, it was coming through their connection vaguely since both of them were distracted, Murphy mostly by the hand on his cock and when he drew back and looked at his twin, Murphy saw Connor licking his lips and the soft underside of his jaw was moving, giving away that Connor was gathering spit in his mouth.

Murphy knew then that Connor was planning to suck him off and while Connor gave an incredible, wet and deep blowjob, Murphy didn't want that. He was sore, yes, but he was not fragile, he'd had a sore ass before after sex and it had always been worth it,

"Connor, I'm fine." He said as he pulled Connor closer, one hand sliding over Connor's waist before Murphy rolled onto his back, gesturing for Connor to follow and lie over him.

Connor moved with him, settling with one leg between Murphy's,

"Yeh' don't have te', Murphy…I can-…"

"I want et', so shut the fuck up would yeh'…" Murphy pulled him down for a kiss, parting his lips against Connor's and kissing his twin languidly as he spread his legs wider and after some hesitation, Connor finally moved in between his legs again.

Murphy automatically brought his legs up and apart and Connor kissed him with less uncertainty after a minute, Connor's hand sliding over Murphy's thigh before slipping between their bodies and seconds later Connor was guiding himself back inside of Murphy's sore but pliant rectum.

Murphy exhaled shortly against Connor's mouth at the sting and ache of being stretched again, and Connor tensed above him, holding himself up on his forearms as he looked down at Murphy with a clenched jaw,

"…the fuck are yeh' so stubborn, Murphy, I didn't want te' hurt yeh'…" he kept his hips absolutely stationary.

Murphy glared up at him,

"Yeh' want te' hear me say et?" he asked as he adjusted himself carefully beneath Connor, his eyes trailing appreciatively over Connor's muscled torso, he had liked the chest hair, but he liked the smoothness just as much.

"Say what?" Connor asked, genuinely baffled.

Murphy smiled up him, intentionally sexy and teasing,

"That I want yeh' te' come inside me, Connor." He moved his hand between them and started to stroke his cock, and just because he was enjoying the stunned, flushed and extremely turned on expression that came over Connor's face, Murphy added after licking his lips, "Please?"

When Connor flashed him a smug but affectionate smile, Murphy smiled right back and waited as Connor adjusted his position, causing Murphy's breath to hitch when he pressed inside slowly,

"Well, since yeh' asked so fuckin' nicely…" he said against Murphy's lips and kissed him as he started to move.

* * *

My heart's a graveyard, baby  
And to evil we make love  
On our passion's killing floor  
In my arms, you won't sleep safely  
And of lust we are reborn  
On our passion's killing floor…

* * *

Murphy woke hours later, inhaling deeply and turning his face to rub it into his pillow as he stretched slowly, feeling a pleasant ache in his muscles and none too pleasant ache in his ass.

He was sleeping on his front and he raised his head after he'd stretched, his eyes were sandy and still sleep puffy as he raised an eyebrow and looked to the side of the bed Connor was on, the left side.

Connor was still asleep, not even a foot away, but neither of them were touching each other when Murphy specifically remembered they'd fallen asleep in a pathetically cuddly embrace. They'd kissed for a really long time after Connor had –slowly and accurately- fucked Murphy until they both came good and hard, and then they'd done just as Connor had wanted, they'd held each other.

They'd probably made quite a sight…with only God to bear witness and to damn them eternally…

…for sins committed in a dimly lit hotel room in the early hours of the morning, two brothers, fraternal twins, sharing life blood and saliva and body fluids, a highlight on white bed sheets, flushed white skin, harsh blue ink, blue as blue heated eyes and dark sex mussed hair, sweaty bodies entangled and stark naked, all limbs, splayed legs, white knuckles, sheet burned knees, elbows, damp inner thighs, skin sliding, muscles tensing, grasping and touching and bruising in intimate, secret places and panting into each other's mouths, gasping, so many kisses, sudden, sweet, rough, tongues and teeth and wet and tasting, heavy breathing, Connor a solid warm weight above Murphy, between his legs, inside again and again, slick and slicker and easy and sore and tight just so, Murphy's hair caught in Connor's clutching fingers and Murphy's hands on Connor's ass, wanting, needing, pulling, closer, ruddy skin and nail crescents and bodies rocking together, skin slapping, thrusting, writhing, reaching, aching, moaning…fucking slow…fucking deep…Connor **fucking** Murphy, brother in brother…every kind of pleasure coming together, blood and heat rushing and rushing and sensations colliding…and then…

… _cuddling_.

One moment an ungodly sin, the next…

Murphy shivered bodily and pressed his face into the pillow again, thinking _Jesus Christ_ and _I love Connor_ and _Please Forgive Me_ as his insides warmed with arousal all over again at the vivid memory.

And they'd fallen asleep that way, cuddling, with Murphy lying on his back, Connor's face tucked into Murphy's neck, his arm laid across Murphy's waist…and Murphy's arm had been under Connor's neck, bent at the elbow so his hand could rest in his twin's thick sex-sweated hair, his own head turned so that he was breathing softly over Connor's temple.

Murphy shook his head with a content smile on his face as he leaned up on his elbows, his forearms and hands tucked under his pillow. Connor had been half on top of him when they'd fallen asleep and Murphy had found it pretty easy to relax beneath Connor despite how _weird_ it had felt and he'd drifted to sleep very easily, satisfied and exhausted.

Shit…he hadn't even needed a cigarette.

Murphy felt his ears get hot just thinking about how good – and new in many ways- the previous night had been, which was ridiculous after so many years of being with Connor, he shouldn't still be blushing over this shit…but Connor's _mouth_ …

Murphy swallowed a groan and after a beat of thoughtful silence just smiling to himself, he sniffed and glanced at the windows. The sun was up and high in the sky and through the drawn curtains it cast a nice soft warm glow over the room, making the space pleasantly warm because of it too.

America and not Ireland. It wasn't raining outside or overcast, there was no smell of sheep and their shit, no smell of stone and damp, firewood and smoke or Noah cooking awful oatmeal for breakfast. Murphy smiled wider after inhaling sleepily, because his senses were filled with the scents of Connor and sex and clean hotel bedding and vanilla, all of which hung in the air and he inhaled again just to savor the overall pleasant mixture. He glanced again at Connor still fast asleep beside him then, said twin lying on his back, his chest rising and falling and his face calm and peaceful.

Everything about that moment felt so right...

Murphy shifted closer to his twin under the duvet –which he didn't remember covering with- when the urge to be near Connor came over him. He ignored the weird feelings of being girly and gay, because he was already in bed beside Connor, having slept in his embrace for at least a few hours before they naturally separated, so there was no point in denying himself anything now.

Murphy leaned on his elbow, lying on his side next to his twin, close enough that their bodies were touching as he leaned down and kissed the exposed side of Connor's neck, the left side, because Connor's head was turned away, facing the windows as he slept. Murphy kissed his twin's Mary Magdalene tattoo and then inhaled against Connor's neck, enjoying the scent of skin and sweat and soap and _Connor_.

Connor didn't stir, his chest continued to rise and fall steadily as he slept so Murphy kept kissing his twin's neck, trailing his lips and nose over the smooth skin, drawing calm via their connection from Connor's peaceful, content sleep. Murphy made his way down until he was kissing over Connor's chest, where he set his lips against the relaxed muscle of his twin's left peck and he sucked gently at the smooth, fair skin there.

He left a mark, discreet and personal, where no one would see it unless Connor were to take his shirt off in other peoples company, which Murphy knew his twin wouldn't just do. Murphy sighed softly then and rested his forehead on Connor's chest as his stomach swirled and fluttered pleasantly, his chest warmed and his heart rate sped up…because Murphy felt it, powerful and unconditional, he felt how deeply he loved Connor as it announced itself like it occasionally did when he least expected it.

"Yeh' okay, Murph?" Connor asked sleepily, apparently having woken up, his hand came up and slid into Murphy's hair. Murphy was still leaning on his elbow and he raised his head to look at Connor, who was looking back at him with barely open blue eyes,

"Aye." He answered quietly, blinking once lazily.

Connor nodded and frowned slightly,

"What time is et?" he asked as he glanced at the closed curtains inhibiting the amount of sunshine making it into the room, and Murphy honestly didn't even know himself. He pushed himself up to sit –carefully and with only a slight wince- beside Connor and he shook his head as he hooked his arms around his bent up knees,

"I don't know, late probably." He was guessing since they had only ended up asleep at around five AM.

Connor inhaled deeply as he stretched and afterwards Murphy felt his twin's hand slide up his back, slowly along his spine in a familiar caress,

"Yeh' feelin' alright?" the question wasn't just worded differently from Connor's waking question, it was asking something more personal about Murphy's physical state.

Murphy glanced back at him and nodded honestly,

"Aye, m'fine."

Connor sat up then and Murphy just closed his eyes and smiled as Connor kissed him with smooth, dry lips from Murphy's bare shoulder, up the side of his neck, along his jaw and then finally he kissed the shell of Murphy's ear and just behind it before he rested his chin on Murphy's shoulder,

"Yeh' want te' shower first?" he asked.

Murphy considered it but then shook his head, looking sidelong at Connor,

"No, you go, then when yer' done yeh' can go an' get us breakfast." He stated with a smirk before he tilted his head to the side and he kissed Connor's mouth, said twin smiled against his lips during each of the three kisses Murphy offered him and then Connor pursed his lips and mock frowned,

"Just tellin' me what te' do now, are yeh'?" he asked softly, playfully.

Murphy matched his look and his tone, teasing and intimate,

"Aye, an' since we're a _couple_ , if yeh' don't get me breakfast, I'll be withholding sex." He smirked and bobbed an eyebrow at his twin. Connor hummed and squinted,

"So, just te' be clear, we've established that yer' the woman in this relationship." Connor tilted his head, chin still rested on Murphy's shoulder as he grinned, obviously trying to rile Murphy up.

Murphy narrowed his eyes, about to get upset as his twin was expecting, but then he realized he didn't need to. Connor was just teasing him, as per the norm, and so Murphy decided to just ignore the jibe and make one of his own. He cocked an eyebrow proper then,

"No, Conn, we've just established that yer' my bitch…" he said with a grin, absently glancing down his twin's torso and the sight of the duvet tenting at Connor's crotch only fueled his confidence as he lowered his voice just a bit, "…don't ferget' te' get me coffee." Murphy added, expecting Connor to tackle him, to make a play for dominance between them, very thinly veiled by the act of sibling wrestling.

But Murphy watched with amazement, _disbelief_ and arousal as Connor, the quick witted, silver tongued, sarcastic, too smart for his own good, –and more often than not caller of the shots- half of the MacManus twins, _actually_ debated with himself, hesitated, questioned, whether or not he should say something in response. And Murphy couldn't help feeling ridiculously smug and pleasantly giddy when Connor didn't disagree, didn't comment, didn't dismiss, didn't _deny,_ hell, he didn't even make a face. Instead he shrugged facially and then nodded once, blue eyes shining with affection, humor and desire. He kissed Murphy's shoulder again once before he tossed the duvet off of his naked body, swung his legs off the bed and he got up, striding confidently around the bed toward the bathroom as Murphy watched, openly admiring the length of Connor's naked lean, muscled body and Murphy felt himself getting hard.

 _Holy shit_. There was something to this _couple_ business that was incredibly hot.

Murphy huffed softly to himself in surprise once Connor had disappeared into the bathroom and the shower could be heard starting up. He lied back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, smiling, feeling _happy_ for the first time in so long, happy and content and complete with love and with a sexual, warm ache in his body, surrounded by the scent of himself and Connor and their sex. It might have been bliss…

Murphy's smile faded though when he realized that for the past several hours, not once did he think of the 'Saints' or Noah or the police or Yakavetta, all of those things that were supposed to be important in their respective ways. And with a slight frown forming on his face, for the first time _ever_ , Murphy found himself wishing that there was no 'Saints', Noah, police or Yakavetta or any of it…right then, in that moment, he wished that it could be that way, like it had been, just himself and Connor together, for the past few hours, all the time.

…but all of those things did exist, that was reality and it wasn't going away, so with a sigh, Murphy rolled onto Connor's side of the hotel bed and he pressed his face into the pillow Connor had slept on, deciding to enjoy the moment while he could.

* * *

We are saved where all faiths fail  
Alive inside of our tomb…

* * *

A few hours later…

Connor and Murphy had cleaned up, showered, eaten and dressed by the time late afternoon was tingeing New York's sky orange and red. They'd turned the hotel's cleaning service away earlier, telling them to come back later because the twins wouldn't be spending another night there, as much as Murphy knew they both wished they could.

But they had too much to do.

When Connor had returned from going out to get 'breakfast' that early afternoon, he'd informed Murphy that he'd called Romeo while he'd been out, and Romeo had told Connor that he had a tip off about where they could hit Yakavetta's people that night. For that reason Connor had booked them earlier tickets on a Greyhound, they'd be catching the 7.15 PM bus in downtown Brooklyn, which wasn't ideal, since they'd wanted to board much later in the night in order to decrease their chances of being seen, but they needed to get to Boston to follow up on that tip quickly, so they were going to risk it.

Presently it was 6 PM and they were set to head out, their bags were packed with all of their essentials and Romeo was going to pick them up when they arrived in Boston not long after midnight, from there they'd head straight to the tip off spot.

Murphy couldn't help feeling a little nervous, it had been a long time since they'd executed anyone and so he felt a bit like he had that very first time at the Copley Plaza, slightly scared and slightly excited.

He glanced at Connor, who looked calm but tense, from where he sat at the foot of the bed, smoking a cigarette leisurely, elbows on his knees. Murphy brushed the thumb of his smoking hand over his bottom lip as he looked his twin over from head to toe, wondering what the evening would hold, whether they'd get shot or not, whether things would go well or straight to shit, whether they'd still be alive tomorrow, one or the other, or both. Murphy's insides shook slightly with fear at the thought of losing Connor that night…or any.

He hated to, but he asked himself if the risk was worth their mission from God.

Connor was placing his neatly compacted and rolled pea coat into his bag right then, they weren't wearing their coats because they knew they couldn't appear in public with anything that trademark to the 'Saints'. So they wore their black turtlenecks with dark blue jeans and black boots, their rosaries tucked under their shirts, hidden.

Later, when they arrived in Boston, their coats, holsters, balaclavas, weapons etcetera, would be added to their attire.

Murphy sighed out smoke and glanced at his cigarette before he scratched at the side of his neck and felt the beads of his rosary there. He had missed the comforting weight of his rosary around his neck, and earlier when they'd been dressing and he'd seen Connor slip his own rosary on, the red-brown beads settling against Connor's bare, defined chest, contouring and sitting askew in accordance with the lines of his twin's musculature…Murphy had found that he desperately missed seeing the rosary on Connor too.

It'd been so many years since they were able to wear them. They'd been sorely missed…and inappropriately missed.

Murphy closed his eyes, inhaling deeply from his cigarette when his mind flooded with the blasphemous memories of the few times too many in Boston and New York, years ago, when Connor had 'forgotten' to remove his rosary before they'd fucked. Murphy suspected Connor had a kink for it, because even when Murphy had pointed it out to him, most times he'd kept it on anyway.

And then depending on their positions during sex Murphy had felt the rosary moving - tapping, brushing, sticking- against his back or to his chest, neck, stomach or thighs, swaying interrupted as their bodies moved together. Or other times when Murphy had been on his knees with his mouth full of his brother's cock and he'd looked up and seen the cross dangling above him, or he'd been running his hands over Connor's abs and chest and the beads had gotten caught and tangled with his fingers, the cross bumping over his knuckles or his wrists…and _sometimes_ Murphy had fisted the beads in his hands and sucked Connor just that much harder and deeper, because for some reason he couldn't place, the blatant sin of it turned him on as much as it disgusted him.

He opened his eyes again when Connor spoke, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he looked at his twin,

"We should go, et's about an hour's walk to the departure point." Connor was saying as he glanced around the room, making sure they had everything, completely focused.

Unlike Murphy, who watched him calmly, but was burning with arousal and aching between his thighs for his twin, especially as he thought about the time he'd been riding Connor in one of their temporary apartments, fucking himself down onto his brother's cock unbidden. They'd been naked –Connor only part way since his jeans had still been around his knees- and noisy and sprawled out on the bed.

Murphy had been balanced over Connor on his knees, hands on Connor's chest, and moving his hips to meet every one of Connor's upward thrusts that never missed to blind him with pleasure, while Connor had kissed him generously and his socked feet had slipped against the bed sheet, seeking traction and leverage for him to thrust…fucking and fucking until Murphy had come between them, all over Connor's sweaty chest… _and all over the rosary_ , where it had been tangled in Murphy's fingers.

They'd argued after, serious mood killer that had been, and Murphy had solemnly washed off Connor's rosary despite Connor saying he would do it himself, because Murphy had felt so guilty about it afterward. Yet he'd still never insisted when Connor didn't remove the rosary again the times following that…

Murphy sighed inwardly, the memories seemed as clear as if they'd happened yesterday and yet it'd been years and years ago.

"…-urph, **Murphy**?" Connor was saying and Murphy snapped his eyes to his twin, blinking away the heated memories as he raised his eyebrows in question. Connor had his game face on and he looked good, smelled good...

"Where the fuck is yeh' head, Christ, I asked if yer' ready te' go?" he asked while shaking his head.

Murphy nodded, took the final hit off his smoke and then stood up,

"Aye, I'm ready." He answered as he walked over to the bedside to where the ashtray was.

" **Oh** , that's good." Connor said sarcastically and then sniffed as he looked around again, "I'll go an' collect the security deposit an' check out, I'll meet yeh' outside, aye?"

Murphy nodded, noting and overlooking his twin's irritability, probably caused by stress, while Connor was looking at the still bright daylight beyond the windows and he frowned because just as Murphy knew, he knew too, that it was risky for them to be out in public during the day. But the sun would be set soon and they wouldn't have to worry as much.

They looked at one another after a tense minute of silence and held each other's gazes until they'd synced up.

After that they were ready to go out and face their enemies. Connor unrolled the sleeves of his turtleneck from where they'd been scrunched up at his elbows and Murphy grabbed up the two bags and then they left the hotel room.

* * *

* * *

Murphy was relieved that everything went off without a hitch, they checked out without a hassle and no one even really looked their way. They walked briskly to the departure point and made it in time to board the bus, they took seats in the very back and it was just about dark outside by then so they felt at ease as the bus pulled out onto the road.

Neither of them talked on the bus ride, it wasn't all that empty and both of them were completely focused on what they had to do that night, even Murphy finally had his head in the game. So any conversation they could have had would be about the execution, which meant they couldn't talk.

Once they were about a half an hour outside of Boston, they shared a glance before they bowed their heads, closed their eyes and started silently praying.

* * *

* * *

Murphy felt a little more at peace after they'd prayed and once they drove into the terminal in Boston, he started to feel anticipation and excitement that would only increase after the impending righteous execution.

He hadn't experienced those feelings singing through his veins in so long that he felt a little high on the gradual adrenalin seepage.

Also, he was getting fairly decent vibes from Connor as well, although his twin looked very stoic.

It didn't worry Murphy though, Connor had looked the same that first time before they'd done an execution, all serious and somber, but once he got into it, he would instantly loosen up, Murphy knew. It was sort of like their first time all over again in a way.

Murphy was honestly in high spirits overall…

…that was, until they stepped out of the bus and they spotted Romeo where he stood waiting for them…leaning against a bright _orange_ , scratched up 72' VW Beetle with white faded flames painted on the hood.

Jesus fucking Christ.

* * *

…back into darkness we flee

(To tear our hearts out)

On our passion's killing floor  
Forever more.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- * It's slang for prostitute  
> 

* * *

When we got to Boston, we knew we'd missed a turn.  
No one back in traffic school had  
told us there are signs that can't be learned…

* * *

Alright, so Romeo's car was a fucking joke.

There was no sugarcoating it. Connor actually felt like an idiot because he'd asked Romeo what car he drove when he'd called the Mexican from New York and Romeo had told him not to worry about it, said his car was _inconspicuous,_ which is exactly how Connor had relayed the message back to his twin.

Now they were sitting in Romeo's ridiculous car, a fucking old VW beetle that was as bright an orange as it was a piece of shit, driving through the streets of Boston. Connor had gotten into the back seat, mumbling that he'd load the weapons, but really he just didn't want to have to tell Murphy to sit in the cramped back seat on top of the already far too annoyed vibe and look he was getting from his brother.

Presently all three of them were quiet as they drove in the puttering car, Connor had pulled on his pea coat and holster and Murphy was just straightening his coat on his shoulders after he'd pulled his own holster on, maneuvering awkwardly in the cramped space. Connor glanced at his twin and then at Romeo as he unzipped his weapons bag and took out one of his Beretta's and a pack of bullets to begin loading up.

It was fairly dark in the car but Connor could load his gun in his sleep, so he settled into it, trying to ignore the tension.

He knew that Romeo picked up on how annoyed Murphy was, when Murphy was annoyed it was **very** hard to miss. The tension in the car was obvious, even though no one was talking or looking at each other, but Connor was content to ignore it. Murphy on the other hand wasn't quite so content,

"I thought you said yeh' car was inconspicuous." He said in a testy tone.

Connor continued to try and ignore the tension.

"Yeah, well…I don't like words with _spick_ right in the middle." Romeo responded drolly.

Connor clenched his jaw, continued what he was doing, he expected that Murphy wouldn't bother to respond, and his twin didn't, but Romeo continued,

"Besides…" and Connor felt himself getting irritated, "…it is where I live." He finished.

Connor glanced at Romeo, not sure whether he should tell the man to shut the fuck up, because pissing Murphy off further would only piss Connor off too and that wasn't a good thing, or if he should just leave it alone.

** **

"Yeah, where's that? Margaretville?" Murphy responded, which was unlike himself because he wasn't usually one to entertain petty arguments with people he didn't know…or like.

Connor looked back to the magazine clip he'd completed loading and cocked an eyebrow, since now he wasn't sure if he should tell them both to shut up. He'd known from the get go that Murphy wasn't keen on Romeo, so he figured maybe he had to give them some time to get along, if they ever would, but if they were going to be at odds all the time, then Connor knew they'd have to cut Romeo loose.

"Hey, I hail from a colorful people." Romeo said, raising his voice, but he didn't sound hostile about it, it was as if he were trying not to be a dick and Connor found himself thinking yet again that yeah, Romeo was alright.

He felt like he could actually trust Romeo, like he would be a good guy to have on hand.

That time Murphy didn't respond and Connor sensed the tension from Murphy ease up just a bit, so he knew either Murphy was finding Romeo amusing or he was just not taking the Mexican seriously, the former would be preferred but still not a sign of acceptance.

"Side's…you wouldn't know style if it pitched a tent in your ass." Romeo added.

Connor was certain that was meant to be a joke, but neither he nor Murphy laughed or smiled. Connor did glance up though and he saw the way Murphy cast a very annoyed glance at Romeo. Connor decided to intervene then, he clicked the magazine into place and flipped the gun over in his hand so that he was holding the grip out to Murphy over his twin's shoulder,

"How far are we?" he asked Romeo.

After Murphy took the gun Connor went to work loading the next one.

"About a half an hour," Romeo answered, glancing at Connor over his shoulder, "the place is near the docks in South Boston." He informed.

Connor nodded and after a few more bullets the second gun clip was loaded, he inserted it into the Beretta and he handed it to Murphy just as he had the first one. Murphy took it and Connor glanced at his annoyed expression and then to Romeo's annoyed expression.

He shook his head to himself before he went back to loading his own guns.

* * *

Red and white for blood cells, red and white for wine…

* * *

The rest of the drive had actually been in silence until they arrived at their destination, and once there Romeo only spoke to inform them that this spot was his 'ace in the hole', because apparently Yakavetta had recently been involved with the Chinese and this was the place they did business.

Romeo parked a short walk away from the entrance to the warehouse yard, because deep down inside he knew his fucking car was a ridiculously noticeable **eyesore**. The shit.

The twins double checked their weapons, pulled on their gloves and chose to veto their balaclavas since the streets and buildings were void of any people who could be eye witnesses. They got out of the car and the three of them started walking, Connor glancing from Murphy on one side of him to Romeo on the other side, both of them still looked peeved.

He half rolled his eyes and then he patted Romeo's shoulder, shoving him slightly forward,

"Go on ahead an' make sure et's clear, we'll catch up." Connor instructed and while Romeo looked like he wanted to object, he seemed to remember he was on probation and quickly nodded before walking faster, putting distance between himself and the twins.

Once Romeo was out of earshot, Murphy glanced at Connor,

"What is et'?" he asked knowingly, since Romeo had obviously been sent away to give them a moment alone, Connor wasn't surprised Murphy knew that, so he didn't beat around the bush,

"Yeh' know this is the reverse of what happened with Roc, right?" he slowed his gait and Murphy did likewise, frowning and glancing at Connor again,

"What?"

"I didn't want Roc te' join us then, same's yeh' don't want Romeo te' be here now…" he gestured to the Mexican who was carefully skulking into the warehouse entrance and Murphy clenched his jaw, "…but I let Rocco in, Murph, cause' yeh' vouched fer' him, insisted I give him a chance."

"So yer' sayin' that yeh'd vouch fer' Romeo?" Murphy asked quietly and they stopped walking, because Romeo had stopped at the warehouse entrance and given them a thumbs up, the all clear.

Connor shrugged facially and then sucked in his some air through his teeth as he gave Romeo a once over, rubbing his gloved hand over his mouth and chin before he nodded,

"Aye, I'd say I would, he's done alright by us so far."

"We've known him fer' a few days, Conn, we knew Rocco fer' years-..."

"An' yet Rocco being with us gave me twice as much stress…"

"Are yeh' fuckin' serious?"

"Aye, Murphy, I am." He answered more sternly, because Murphy was shaking his head and glaring at him

Connor sighed and took one careful step forward, remembering to keep their proximity platonic,

"Just give Romeo a chance." He intoned it as a request, even if he stated it.

Murphy stared at him for a few seconds, then his glare softened and he nodded, and Connor grinned at him, patting him roughly on his shoulder before he pushed his twin to keep walking and together they approached Romeo where he waited.

* * *

* * *

Romeo did come through though, Connor was impressed with him, a bunch of drug cutting, packing, smuggling sons of bitches who worked for Yakavetta were unknowingly awaiting them inside the warehouse and Connor was finally feeling that anticipatory adrenalin, and it was getting him pumped.

Presently they were watching the entrance of the warehouse from behind large old oil drums, there was a young guy unloading crates with a forklift near the entrance but aside from him the yard was empty. Connor glanced around the area as several plans formulated in his head for how they could get into the warehouse and execute their targets. Typically, despite there being several less complicated plans he thought of, Connor quite liked the idea of making a grand entrance after so long of being off the map, he wanted to do something awesome, something action heroes would do in the fucking movies and it had to be wicked and dramatic.

He could just see it in his mind and he was about to start grinning when he felt Murphy shift next to him, moving to get back down behind the oil drums. He followed his twin and lowered himself so that they were all crouching down and facing each other in a semi-circle. Connor tried to catch his twin's gaze, but Murphy –probably still being moody with him- kept his eyes down so Connor turned his attention to Romeo, who was looking at him with keen interest.

He really wished Murphy wasn't acting like a child right then, he was killing Connor's buzz.

Well, almost, after all Connor was really _excited_ to start relaying his plan. So he did, explaining in somewhat over the top detail about how they'd walk up to the entrance all strapped and suave and how Romeo would pistol whip the forklift operator, then he and Murphy would hide in a crate loaded on the forklift and have Romeo drive them inside so they could bust out of the crate once they were upon their Chinese targets and take them all out in a flourish.

Murphy started to frown at him around the time when Connor described how he and Murphy would jump or -ahem, ahem, front flip- down from the forklift to the ground and then would take a drag on their cigarettes, all cool and collected, which would close out the badass scene perfectly.

** **

"…we skin out, we go te' Doc's fer' a shot of Irish…" Murphy was looking at Connor like he was an idiot as he spoke, a look Connor hadn't seen in years, not since one of his New York plans mind you, and that look was discouraging, so he turned to Romeo, "…we're at home in time fer' Taco's…" Connor only said that because Romeo was Mexican which made him kind of an asshole, but oh well, "…tha's what we do, huh?" He finished with a nod, sounding surer than he felt.

Shit, Murphy didn't even like Taco's. Serious buzz kill.

When Connor looked away from Romeo's undivided attention to Murphy, said buzz kill met the end of Connor's explanation, it wasn't blatant exasperation though, which Connor supposed wasn't so bad, but rather Murphy just looked **very** skeptical,

"What?" Connor asked, but he knew _what_ and he felt **very** put out by Murphy's puzzled frown, because it made Connor confused.

Murphy, in the past, had always been straightforward with telling Connor when he thought his plans were fucking stupid, so now, when Murphy stuttered and hesitated to say whatever he was thinking, Connor was honestly thrown off,

"What the fuck's wrong with the plan?" he asked irritably, wishing Murphy would just spit it out.

Connor didn't like hearing his twin being so tongue tied, it just wasn't the way Murphy was.

"It's _genius_." Romeo cut off Murphy's continued stuttering, earning himself a narrow eyed glare from said twin, "I can even drive an F-lift man, I got my class D license and every-thang'." Romeo said as surely as Connor had, sounding totally invested in Connor's idea.

Yeah, Connor liked Romeo's attitude!

"That's the fuckin' spirit." Connor said quietly but enthusiastically, giving a nodding, self-pleased Romeo a fist bump on his shoulder before he looked back to Murphy.

Murphy seemed like he was not in the mood to argue as he sighed and looked at the ground, he was being oddly passive and aggressive in random turns, which was just _weird_. And Murphy's link to Connor felt undefined right then so Connor had no idea what his twin was actually feeling, all he knew was that he could probably try being a little less 'nice' to Romeo because it seemed to be making Murphy behave differently.

He seemed uncomfortable and uncertain and tense.

Connor didn't like that.

"I'm gonna' need a gun." Romeo said quietly, palm out and Connor's first thought was not immediately a 'no', because Romeo seemed capable. But right then his link to Murphy cleared up and there was a resounding wave of unpleasant feelings, he glanced at Murphy who glanced at him too, shaking his head and Connor didn't need to think about it, he went with Murphy's obvious feelings,

"Ferget' et'." They said in unison, both looking at Romeo.

"The fuck man? I'm in on this shit." Romeo frowned, looking between them, "I'm working here."

Connor expected Murphy to repeat their answer, maybe say something testy and curt to shut Romeo up. He remembered when Rocco had first asked for a gun and he'd said no abruptly, he'd only given in because Murphy had asked him to and he'd been feeling pretty guilty about his 'problems' with Murphy back then so he hadn't put up a fight, still, he had given in. With that in mind, he turned to Murphy, considering asking again for Romeo just as Murphy had done for Rocco.

Murphy looked right at him and Connor was surprised when, before he'd even opened his mouth, Murphy waved it off, subtly clenching his jaw as he conceded,

"Okay…" he said almost inaudibly, not happy about it, especially not from what Connor could feel through their connection, but still giving the go ahead.

It made Connor feel shitty, so he made a bit of a grumble as he purposely went for the gun he kept in his boot. It was a quick decision, in his mind he reasoned that he needed to stop upsetting Murphy, who would always be sensitive about Rocco's former place in their lives, which Romeo was sort of interfering with. So he figured, since they'd known Rocco for years and had handed him one each of their Berettas when he'd first asked, and they'd only known Romeo for a few days, that the Mexican should get a weapon suitable to how long they'd known him.

That was his reasoning as he handed the 22' caliber handgun to Romeo,

"Here's what yer' gonna' do, yer' gonna consider yerself' a fuckin' pledge till' we tell yeh' different." Connor rattled off to the Mexican, because he hadn't given Romeo as hard a time as he'd given Rocco and that was probably what was pissing Murphy off.

He didn't know how he hadn't seen it sooner when it was so fuckin' obvious.

And turns out, Connor was on the money, because Murphy started snickering even before Romeo saw the gun, and when Romeo did look at the gun, he understandably complained. But by this point Connor wasn't turning back, Romeo needed to prove himself, just as Rocco had, it was only fair.

It was _just_. And Murphy wore his Aequitas tattoo as proudly as Connor wore his Veritas, so no matter how trivial the issue, Connor would take fairness seriously.

So Connor shut Romeo up, told him it was all he was getting and asked if there was a problem. Romeo backed down easier than Rocco ever would have, Rocco would probably have turned to Murphy and expected to get his way, and either Connor would have been the bad guy, or Rocco **would have** gotten his fucking way.

Christ. He felt a bit like he was trying to get two kids to play nice with one another.

After Romeo shut the hell up, grumpy but acceptant, Connor gave him a few more half-hashed warnings and then he stood up and looked over the oil drums again, needing to roll his eyes where Murphy couldn't see him doing so.

But Murphy was too busy making fun of Romeo to notice, which made Connor roll his eyes again.

And then it was time to stop fucking around, so Connor and Murphy took a second to consult with one another, share a level minded look and it was go time.

* * *

They could be the whole damn spectrum if  
we'd all just let them. Lord, it's such a crime...

* * *

Murphy had pretty much reverted back to his usual self after Connor had taken Romeo down a few notches.

After Romeo unsuccessfully pistol whipped the forklift operator, not knocking him out or anything even close to it, Murphy had given Connor the look that said 'first impressions last' and of course, Romeo was off to a _shitty_ start.

That had made Connor agitated and it only got worse when they were close enough to the crates to realize they were filled with _coffee grains_ which would take for-fucking-ever to clear out before they could get in the crate, Murphy had snorted out a laugh at that and Connor had shot him a 'shut it' look.

Then Romeo made it even _worse_ when he engaged the –not knocked out as he should have been- forklift operator in a conversation about how he'd intended to render the man unconscious, but the 22' had been less than adequate to achieve that particular outcome.

Turns out the forklift operator had a big enough mouth to make Connor go from agitated to pissed off.

 _Christ, that's a gun? Why didn't you just point it at me and say 'scram'?_ big mouth had asked Romeo.

So Connor obliged by whipping out his Beretta and telling the forklift operator to scram, and he'd fucking meant it too, the kid had obviously known because he bolted without a second's hesitation.

Romeo remained up shit creak when a second later he'd asked that Connor and Murphy not let that particular fuck up affect their grading of him. Connor was _pissed_ by then and he hadn't allowed Romeo to finish, just yelled at him to shut up and stay in the forklift while they threw coffee beans all over the fucking place.

Jesus Christ. In retrospect he was grateful though that it had been coffee beans and not something gross or stinky.

Meanwhile, Murphy, back to being the obnoxious judger of all plans by Connor MacManus that he was, rubbed it in, quipping that Connor's plan was off to a 'winning start' in a nice calm, arsehole, sarcastic way.

Connor told him to go and fuck himself.

Murphy was unfazed, in fact, he'd just looked amused.

Then the coffee bean dig-a-thon ended and heroin appeared, well, Connor knew it –almost entirely certainly- was heroin because it tasted bitter and the texture was grain like and it was odorless, which was how that guy many years back had described the 'good shit' as being to Connor at that bar that time.

Murphy had been unimpressed, asking how the fuck Connor knew it was heroin and even though he'd brushed it off in the moment, Connor knew Murphy would bring it up later, because Murphy had given him a different look when they'd started unpacking the heroin from the crate, a look that said 'you'd better be able to explain yourself or you're in for a fucking beating'.

Connor didn't blame him, drugs were a big no-no.

Thereafter…the plan didn't iron itself out at all, in fact, it was quite the opposite.

With how Romeo had been essentially driving the forklift _blind,_ since the dumbass who claimed to have a license, forgot how to raise the fork carriage so he could _see_ where he was going. And then with how Connor and Murphy got into a fight inside the crate, one of those age old sibling scuffles they often got into when they were pissing each other off, only for Romeo to bring the forklift to a grinding halt _after_ he'd remembered how to raise them ten feet in the air, so that they went careening into a mechanic's pit in the warehouse floor, crate and all…

…in the end, it was _amazing_ that they got up and still managed to kill every Chinese motherfucker in sight.

** **

And afterwards, dragging the noisy fucker in charge onto his knees and reciting their family prayer before double tapping him in the back of the head, had come back to them as naturally as breathing.

Romeo, who had watched them pray, execute and then penny all the bodies as awed and fearfully as Rocco had that first time, hadn't been totally useless in the end. During the fray, he'd driven the forklift into the Chinese gangsters way to throw them off and if Connor recalled, he'd even managed to shoot one of the men, not killed, but wounded.

Also, Romeo had crossed himself and mumbled in prayer along with the twins every single time they placed pennies over a dead body's eyes, which was more than Rocco ever did, because Rocco had been a wayward Catholic, non-practicing, barely believing…but Romeo was a believer, he was invested…and Connor had noticed that Murphy noticed.

****

But, holy fuck, Murphy had been _pissed_ off coming out of that broken crate, Connor hadn't exactly been peachy himself, but Murphy had been seething, so Romeo would need a few more points still before Murphy warmed up to him properly.

Despite all that though, Connor smiled presently as he thought about how much he'd missed the adrenalin and satisfaction of their calling, of their faith. He also enjoyed how, without even being aware of it, both he and Murphy had started reciting a prayer the very second they'd started shooting, and it had been the same prayer too. That was new, they'd never done that before, but it had felt right, they'd both _felt_ it, just like old times.

At the moment, everything was somehow just as it should be. Not even so much back to the 'norm' of how life had been before they'd become the 'Saints', when they'd last lived in Boston, but it was close.

They'd made it to Doc's after the job without a hitch, Romeo was with them because he was one of them now, a wanted man even if the police hadn't identified him yet, so he'd be staying with them, just as Rocco had.

And shit, Connor had felt elated and nostalgic and he'd been all grins right along with Murphy when they'd walked into McGinty's after so many years.

Doc had welcomed them with more than just stutters, open arms, curse words and a smile. He'd been _expecting_ them, said the Lord had told him they'd be coming, when really it'd probably been the never ending news runs of their framed murder that Doc –and anyone who knew them- could have guessed was going to bring them back.

Doc had also welcomed Romeo, who Murphy had introduced as 'our Mexican' and Connor hadn't been able to help snickering about that nickname, at least Murphy had smiled when he said it.

Mind you, he'd been smiling most of the night as they ate, drank, laughed and made themselves at home in the speakeasy above McGinty's that Doc had made up for them to stay in as long as they needed. Murphy had been making fun of Romeo, sure, but still ultimately getting along with him.

It was progress.

**I**

As for the place Doc had them lodging in, it was a sweet set up, not too nice and not too shitty, it _fondly_ reminded Connor –and Murphy- of their old loft, only it was less drafty and less damp and it even smelled like beer and cigarette smoke with a hint of staleness, but the furniture was a little better and there was better whiskey, more food and a pool table. It was great, it even had a fire escape.

** **

The actual bar itself still looked the same, it was in a good state too, it still belonged to Doc and it was just a bit upgraded only where it'd needed to be and with all of that, it felt just like McGinty's should, like it was close to home…which Connor could honestly say didn't represent Ireland for him anymore, but instead, it represented South Boston.

Because somehow, South Boston truly felt like home in the end.

Well, wherever Murphy was, was really home, and since Murphy felt most at home in Boston, Connor did too.

Christ, it'd been hard to keep his eyes off Murphy _all fucking night_ , and Connor had managed as much as he could, because Doc and Romeo were around and he couldn't be caught staring at Murphy too much, or even at all really. But Murphy had smiled more in that night than he had in the last couple of years, _real_ smiles, honest, ear to ear, toothy smiles which only became more and more infectious as Murphy's ears got a little red and he started to get tipsy.

Connor barely felt like drinking himself and after he'd been drinking so much the last few years in Ireland, not feeling like it right then was good and strange and it was all because of Murphy, Connor hadn't realized before, but because Murphy had been so blatantly unhappy in Ireland, Connor had been drinking.

He wouldn't tell Murphy that though, his twin would feel guilty and be mad at him all at the same time.

"Connor, the fuck are yeh' doin'?" Murphy leaned out of the low level, wide window, looking at Connor where he sat on the fire escape stairs, smoking and smiling as he thought over how good he felt right then, how good Murphy looked, right then and throughout the night.

"Smokin', idnit' obvious?" he raised his cigarette to his lips and inhaled from it as Murphy climbed out of the window and came over to join him, sitting down beside him on the stairs.

"Why are yeh' smokin' outside?" he clarified, smirking in his attractive, lopsided way as he took the cigarette from Connor's fingers and put it to his lips, taking a long drag on it.

"Wanted some fresh air…" he mumbled absently, watching Murphy's cheeks hollow and admiring how the action highlighted the cut of his jaw line.

Connor trailed his eyes over his twin then, slowly. They were dressed similarly as they always did and Connor found he liked the way the gray shirt Murphy wore fit against his lean, muscled torso. In that moment they looked more like the twins they were than they had in years, they were dressed pretty much identically, with their shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, their matching tattoos visible and they were sitting in the exact same position, elbows on their knees.

They didn't look alike facially, but their builds were only marginally different even after all these years and their eyes were the same, although if you asked Connor, there was no blue that could compete with Murphy's stunning eyes.

"Bullshit, yeh' don't want me te' show you up, yer' fallin' behind, Connor, I'm at least four shots ahead of yeh'." He informed, exhaling his smoke in the other direction before looking back at Connor.

Connor huffed out a laugh, he felt at ease and comfortable and the press of Murphy's firm thigh against his own was a bonus right then,

"Last I checked I was ahead in score, what was et'? Twenty-one te' eighteen?" Connor recalled with a smirk, taking his cigarette back and finishing it in two quick drags as Murphy frowned and tried to remember,

"Are we not counting Ireland?"

"No." Connor said with an amused lilt, "We need witnesses, an' in Ireland no one saw yeh' out drink me, so et' doesn't count." He clarified.

Usually, and specifically during their drinking _challenges,_ Murphy often won, but when they had occasionally gone into town to a bar or were just drinking casually, Connor would usually win. In general Connor had drunk alcohol more often, but when he really put his mind to it, Murphy could drink more alcohol in one sitting than Connor could ever hope to. An Irish talent no doubt.

Murphy scoffed,

"Yer' such a fuckin' cheater…" he loosely punched Connor's leg with the side of his fist and Connor laughed quietly,

"I'm not, those are the fuckin' rules, always have been…"

"Just cause' yeh' make em' up doesn't make them rules, Connor." Murphy mumbled, glancing at the fire escape window and Connor just knew they were thinking the same thing.

Wishing they were alone. Wishing they could touch and kiss.

They could hear Doc and Romeo talking about something loudly, Doc cursing sporadically in between sentences and Romeo occasionally laughing at Doc for it. There were something's about Romeo that were so similar to Rocco.

Murphy was more or less on the same page with Connor about that, since he nodded out of the blue and looked at Connor,

"Romeo's alright." He said quietly.

Connor cocked an eyebrow and belatedly flicked the filter through the iron railing bars,

"That so? Even after the many fuck up's he made tonight?" he enquired in an easy tone, but the question was serious.

"Aye…" Murphy nodded seriously, his eyebrow hiking up as well, "…I don't blame him fer' everything that went wrong, I blame yer' schupid' fuckin' plan." He finished, grinning and Connor grabbed him in a headlock without warning, mumbling a 'shut yer' fuckin' mouth' with a grin.

Murphy laughed as he half-heartedly tried to get his head out, his laughter was a glorious fucking sound.

"Yo, Connor, Murphy…" Romeo's voice sounded, just before he leaned through the window and Connor felt himself tense up at the interruption even though they weren't doing anything wrong. Murphy's head was still locked under his arm, held firmly against Connor's abdomen as Murphy tried to get free, one hand holding onto the upper part of the arm around his head and the other pressing against Connor's thigh.

Completely innocent.

Still Connor felt guilty as Romeo raised his eyebrows at them, shaking his head in amused dismissal a moment later. But that feeling, guilt, was and always would be, a side effect of knowing he and Murphy were involved in something sinful, sick and illegal…well, something besides murdering people anyway.

"Aye?" Connor asked as he loosened his grip on Murphy and said twin righted himself and sat up properly, giving Romeo a disinterested glance that was sort of out of place and undeserved, but if Romeo noticed he didn't show it.

"Doc said to tell you guys he's turning in for the night, he's left already…" Romeo said awkwardly, which made Connor feel awkward and Murphy rub his hand over his mouth, "…so uh, there's only two beds, was wondering where I was gonna crash since there ain't a couch or nothing?"

Ah, so that was why he was standing there so awkwardly, he didn't know where to sleep.

Connor inhaled loudly, looking at Murphy who looked at him, their eyes remained fixed that way for a few seconds as they synced up, not needing to say it out aloud to know they wanted the same thing right then,

"Tell yeh' what, Rome," Connor blinked slowly and refocused his eyes on Romeo, who was staring at them and looking confused, much like Rocco used to when they had a twin moment, "you can take whichever bed yeh' want fer' tonight, Murph an' I are goin' te' go out fer' a while an' when we get back we'll sort something out."

Romeo looked confused and curious now, his expressive eyebrows shifted as he glanced between them but Connor was more aware of the small, pleased smile on Murphy's face.

"Oh yeah…where you guys headed?" Romeo tried not to sound like he was prying, but he was.

Murphy informed him of that,

"Nowhere yeh' need te' know about, Rome…" he stood up and stepped down to the level part of the fire escape beneath the window, "…besides, et's past yer' bed time."

At that comment Romeo went back inside with an eye roll, giving Murphy room to climb back inside.

Connor followed Murphy and once inside and they both picked up their coats from where they'd left them, pulling them on at the same time before they pocketed their cigarette packs, lighters and wallets from off the pool table surface.

Out of habit that they never really lost even after living in peace in Ireland all the years past, both twins tucked a gun into the back of their jeans after checking that the clip was not empty, because they never knew just what might happen. Connor spared Romeo a glance as Murphy stepped back out of the window onto the fire escape, Romeo looked like he thought he was being left out and Connor smiled, amused,

"Get some sleep, Rome, busy day tomorrow." And then Connor followed Murphy out of the window and they quietly made their way down the black iron staircases, descending to Boston's chilly streets like they'd done so many times before on different fire escapes.

* * *

* * *

Let's go back to Boston. Forget about the turn.  
Atlases and gas station attendants are none of our concern.  
We'll forge a little life dear (oh dear) and double down our debts,  
and I guess it stands to reason that the passing seasons will  
slowly dull regrets…

* * *

They walked for a few blocks, smoking and talking, re-familiarizing themselves with the place they used to live, some places looked new, most the same aside from new paint jobs or signage. Of the occasional cars they passed, most of them looked newer, more pricy, sleek and new and while they weren't bad, the twins agreed that they preferred older cars.

The streets were quiet at that hour too, they only passed two separate people in the twelve blocks that they walked, making sure to put some decent distance between themselves and McGinty's. It was coming up on two AM and all the bars in the area were closed up or in the process of closing and the only places that stayed open any later were seedy, dirty places, places that reminded the twins of the Sin Bin.

Places they'd avoid unless their intention was to clean house.

They ended up at a 24 hour gas station store they'd never been in, on a street they'd probably driven or walked through more than a few times, but when you lived somewhere you tended to frequent places closer to where you were situated, and currently, they were far from where they'd used to live in their loft, so it was fairly unfamiliar.

Connor left Murphy waiting outside when he went in to buy more cigarettes and as he'd become pretty comfortable with doing back when they'd lived in Boston and New York, he casually asked the lone cashier for a few sachets of Astroglide and in order to seem like an average Joe, he asked for a pack of condoms too.

The exact moment when it'd become okay with him for someone to believe he was buying one night stand or prostitute necessary supplies, was when he and Murphy had used lube for the first time during sex and Murphy had made the kinds of vulnerable, sexy, wanton noises that damn near made Connor lose his mind and come like a teenage boy.

Less the pain, **more** the pleasure, indeed.

The memory suddenly made him feel bad for the previous night, back in the hotel where he'd overdone it with the roughness and had hurt his twin. But Murphy had been okay, so Connor tried not to let it bother him, he'd make it up to Murphy many times over, every time, any time they could, ten fold.

"Gonna' get lucky tonight, huh?" the cashier asked, an older man who looked a bit pervy if Connor was honest with himself, looked like just the idea of Connor going out to get some snatch was the height of the man's boring night.

That was disturbing on so many levels.

Sometimes Connor did get lucky in a sense though, but not by sex with strange women, he got lucky with shopkeepers who weren't lechers or too fucking forward, but tonight was no such night. Feeling nauseated just looking at the man, Connor dropped a $50 note on the counter and picked up his two packets of smokes, three lube sachets and his pack of condoms,

"Mind yer' own fuckin' business." He said in a tone reserved for threatening people, satisfied when the man's expression flitted between fear and being offended, and then Connor left the store, not even interested in collecting his change.

He stepped out into the cold air and tucked the lube and condoms into the pocket of his coat as he walked up to Murphy where his twin stood leaning against the street light pole. He handed Murphy one of the new cigarette packs as he passed,

"Let's fuckin' go." He mumbled, ripping the plastic seal off his own soft pack and tapping a cigarette out.

Murphy fell into step beside him,

"…the fuck happened in there, yeh' look pissed off?" he enquired as he opened his pack of cigarettes.

Connor took a moment to flip his Zippo open and light up his smoke before he snapped it shut and pocketed it along with his cigarettes,

"S'that fuckin' shopkeeper, the fuck is everyone so quick te' assume that buying a pack of condoms or some other shit like that, instantly fuckin' means yer' planning to pick up a fuckin' hooker?" smoke puffed out of his mouth as he spoke, keeping his voice low and sticking his free hand in his pocket as he glanced at his twin, vaguely gesturing with his cigarette.

Murphy pocketed his own Zippo and cigarette pack as he took a long drag on his newly lit smoke, glancing at Connor and then around at the empty streets,

"Et's almost three in the fuckin' mornin', Con, some might say that no decent man would be out buying those sortsa' things at this _unholy_ hour." He smirked, exhaling smoke through his nose as he huffed out a laugh when Connor made a face at him,

"No decent man? Fer' all that arsehole knew, I lived across the fuckin' street with a steady girlfriend an' we just ran out of what we needed."

Murphy practically guffawed,

"Lube an' condoms?" He whispered and Connor sniffed, glancing around, "Even you know that if he's not assuming yer' lookin' fer' a girl te' fuck, then he's assuming yer' gay cause' of the lube…" Connor found his only response here was to shrug, because technically –and literally- he mostly –probably completely- was the latter, "…an' he'd probably still assume you were out looking fer' a *brasser, male or female, et's lose, lose, Con, just ferget' et'." Murphy puffed on his cigarette, looking thoroughly amused as he smoked.

The moral of the story was, who gives a fuck what anyone thinks? Connor decided he gave not a single fuck.

He frowned after a couple more steps, his thoughts circling in his head as they walked further and further away from McGinty's,

"Murph…" Connor said quietly and his twin looked at him, "…would yeh' say we're gay?" he asked even more quietly and flicked ash off his cigarette just when Murphy stopped walking.

They stood in silence for at least a minute, smoking, glancing around, a car went by, an ambulance siren sounded far away and then on Murphy's last puff from his cigarette, he shrugged and looked at Connor as he exhaled off to the side,

"I don't really care, Conn, what et's called or should be called. Et' is what et' is, aye?" he inclined his head, raised an eyebrow and licked his bottom lip and after a moment Connor smiled and nodded, flicking his cigarette filter away seconds before Murphy did the same,

"Et' is what et' is." He repeated and Murphy nodded.

They started walking again and didn't talk for a while but they'd taken a few corners and they both knew they were circling back in the direction of McGinty's. They'd wanted to get out, to be alone for a while and a long walk was really the best they could do. But it bothered Connor, especially after having had that time with Murphy in the hotel room so recently, he was _craving_ the contact, wanting to be close, more and more and more.

He didn't want to go back to _once in a while_ with Murphy.

Connor looked carefully around the empty, cold streets as they walked. They passed alley ways and parked cars and empty property lots and one or two nightclubs, rundown buildings, closed shops and closed restaurants…and only one trio of people walked by on the opposite side of the street in the last half hour and only two cars appeared and neither drove past them.

He was trying to calculate the risk of kissing Murphy out there in the open, where nobody was likely to see it happen.

Connor swallowed tensely, cuffing a hand through his hair and Murphy must have picked up on his unsettled feelings because he glanced at Connor and asked out of the blue,

"Yeh' okay, Conn?"

They were just about to pass a narrow alleyway, one that led straight through to the next street, it had a few dumpsters and when they were walking by the opening Connor spotted only one fire escape all the way on the other side.

He turned into the alley abruptly, glancing back at his baffled twin who had stridden ahead a bit before he'd noticed Connor was not beside him. Murphy followed him into the narrow, quiet and luckily not very smelly alley and once they were a quarter ways down and amply shadowed from street or sky light, Connor stopped walking, turned around and took the two steps he needed to close the gap between himself and Murphy.

Murphy made a noise of surprise when he stepped into Connor's unexpected kiss and he pulled back instantly, his hands gripping Connor's upper arms as he glanced around before looking at his twin again,

"The fuck are yeh' doin', we're in public." He whispered more quietly than Connor had known he was capable of while subtly trying to shove Connor away. But said twin moved his hands from their grip on the side lengths of Murphy's pea coat, up and beneath to slip his arms firmly around Murphy's waist and pull him close, pressing their bodies together.

"What fuckin' public? We've hardly seen a soul and those that we did were drunk off their arses…" Connor defended, leaning in and sneaking a kiss. Murphy sighed against his lips, the tension in his body still present but undeniably easing since they were shrouded in moderate darkness, whispering so quietly no one would hear them.

And all Connor wanted, all he could hope for right then, was to kiss…make out, whatever. It would be what it would be and he would take it.

Connor snuck in another kiss before trailing off with more along Murphy's jaw line,

"Et's not a good idea, Conn, someone could come through here…" Murphy whispered heatedly as they walked step in step away from the middle of the alley toward the wall, where a few meters away a dumpster blocked them from however little view a passerby might have.

"So what if they do, chances are they'll be too drunk te' care, maybe even te' notice." Connor mumbled as he brought a hand up, caressing one side of Murphy's neck as he pressed kisses along the other side, slow and wet, followed by soft nips of his teeth to Murphy's skin.

Murphy smelled like cigarette smoke, whiskey and _coffee beans_ from being in the crate earlier, and Connor inhaled against Murphy's skin with a smile as he pressed the length of their fronts together and he quickly sought out his twin's lips again. But after a few closed mouth, hesitant pecks from his twin and Murphy's hands still gripping his upper arms, Connor decided to give up on trying. He drew back, disappointed, having only wanted to be close to his paranoid twin, but then Murphy's body suddenly eased against his, warm and solid and the hands on his arms slid up to bracket Connor's neck and face. Murphy leaned in quickly to stop Connor's retreat and as their mouths pressed together in a firm kiss, their eyes met, Murphy's appearing a darker shade of blue under the lack of lighting. When Murphy's eyes slid closed, Connor's did likewise and Murphy's lips parted against his own to the hot, wet slide of Connor's tongue, completely yielding.

Connor breathed in deeply as he leaned into the kiss, his hand underneath his twin's pea coat sliding up along Murphy's back and down again, moving around the protrusion of Murphy's Beretta and further down, sliding over and lightly groping his twin's backside. Murphy was distinctly quiet, reacting only with his eager mouth and caressing hands as he made no noises like he usually did when they kissed. And Connor noticed that he also wasn't making any sounds…because they were both acutely aware that they should **not** be doing what they were doing in a public setting.

It was reckless and stupid.

But it felt so damn good to be holding and kissing Murphy that Connor felt it was worth the small risk.

They kissed for a long while, discreetly tucked against one another's warmth for several -and still counting- quiet minutes of breathing softly, quickly, gentle lapping of tongues, just kissing, deeply, slowly, their hands sliding and touching and squeezing and gripping, all above clothes. Both twins were fully aroused after a while, their stiff cocks trapped in the confines of their jeans without any intent of being freed and seen to…but even with the limitations of touch and sound, it was still so much better than _nothing_.

So much fucking better.

And Connor feared that it would only become more and more difficult to stay away from Murphy in the days to come…and that may just become a problem.

* * *

Geography's too stubborn and people are too clear,  
so let's go find a road-side motel with a clerk who won't tell.  
Days will turn into nights, nights will turn into days, weeks, seasons, and years.  
We'll stay for years.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- HIDDEN IMAGE :If you look closely at the final image, just under the light, you can actually see Connor and Murphy


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I've been reading some old (2005/6) Connor/Murphy fanfiction on LJ recently, some really amazing work that has probably not seen enough readers, which is a pity. Any fans of this pairing (however few are left) should browse LJ if they're interested in reading some really good work.

* * *

Hanging by threads of palest silver  
I could have stayed that way forever  
Bad blood and ghosts wrapped tight around me  
Nothing could ever seem to touch me…

* * *

There were a few things that would never be the same for them, like mornings spent in Boston, Murphy had realized this after he and Connor had finished necking in the alley way a good 45 minutes later. He'd felt sinful and giddy and reckless as they'd slinked out of the alley just a half hour before the lightening dark blue sky started to turn gray. Murphy hadn't even known they had been out for so many hours, not until they'd noticed that the shadows were lifting.

They'd each lit a smoke, easing into ordinary conversation even as their lips were still warm and kiss swollen and their mutual arousals had only just subsided, they'd been smiling, their feet carrying them absently in the direction of McGinty's many, many blocks away. It was then, as the sun rose and Murphy – Connor too, tensing beside him- started to feel exposed because there were people opening their apartment windows and people walking out into the streets to their cars and with every person seeing them in broad daylight, they were running the risk of being recognized, and that's when it hit him.

They couldn't just take walks, couldn't go to the diners they'd been fond of and have coffee or breakfast, they couldn't go into a bar or a pub, couldn't see old friends…they couldn't do anything they'd used to do.

Because things were different than they had been since they'd been identified and became wanted, well known _criminals_.

They'd walked back to McGinty's hastily after that and through several alleys instead of the main streets, not talking but instead making sure they stayed as hidden as possible, making sure no one saw them or got a good look at them, they felt conspicuous in their pea coats too, making them more paranoid.

That had been early that morning.

It was late morning presently and they were in Romeo's God awful car, having just left The Silver Peso, an establishment owned by a relative of Romeo's who had helped them with information on how to locate Yakavetta Jnr.

They'd had a boring, uneventful morning earlier. After Connor and Murphy had returned to Doc's they'd found Romeo awake, he'd claimed he hadn't been able to sleep because he'd been thinking about seeing his uncle, the relative they'd just been to see, in order to get some information.

Connor had encouraged him, told him to see about it, set something up and after Romeo had left the small former speakeasy, Murphy and Connor had removed their jackets and had lied down full kit to sleep, since they'd both been somewhat exhausted and experiencing mixed feelings about the pros and cons of their calling, making them a little moody.

Now just a few hours later, after waking and discussing Romeo's uncle's connection to the underground and then cleaning themselves up and changing, the twins donning a couple of beanies for added cover to their dark, non-descript clothes, the three of them had been to see Uncle Cesar. Murphy was still pretty impressed by the fact that there was a quarter of a million dollar bounty on their heads, Yakavetta was desperate apparently.

Compared to his father, little Yakavetta was a pussy as far as Murphy was concerned.

Which is why he was glad that Romeo's uncle had given them an idea of who to go after, Cesar had said he'd call them as soon as he had a hit on exactly where 'gorgeous George' – fucking Italians and their egos- currently was or would be. The old man had eyes and ears everywhere, which was handy, Murphy and Connor hadn't had a reliable and trusted source of information in a long time, not since Rocco and Paul Smecker.

Both of them were dead now, and the thought made Murphy clench his jaw…

…but he cocked an eyebrow when he heard sniffling and he glanced over at Romeo in the driver's seat beside him.

Murphy blinked, looked away from Rocco and then looked at him again with a frown, because yes, Romeo was _crying_. For fucks sake, Murphy was tempted to glance back at Connor, who for some reason –which Murphy suspected was embarrassment of Romeo's car- opted to sit in the back every time, he wanted to roll his eyes at Connor to make a point about how ridiculous Romeo was being right then.

But Romeo made an actual sobbing sound as he sniffed and Murphy just felt awkward, and amused. He honestly wanted to laugh, so he started to chew at the side skin of his thumb nail to bite it back. He didn't want to be a douche bag because Connor had asked him to try and be nice, which he'd been trying to be all day, shit, he even vouched for Romeo to Cesar when the older man had doubted his nephew's association with them.

That had been _really_ nice of him, still, he was doing this for Connor –and Romeo hadn't yet let them down- so he tried to keep his face even and expressionless and considered averting attention from Romeo's sniffling. Christ, he wasn't even trying very hard to keep it quiet, and Murphy was hard pressed not to start snickering, he had to do something,

"Hey, anybody hungry?" yeah, food sounded good, Murphy felt like he could eat, "maybe we should stop at an IHOP or some-…"

"Shut up!" Connor interrupted abruptly and Murphy closed his mouth.

He felt the waves of amusement coming through their connection even before Connor said anything else,

"Romeo's crying." Connor stated flat out, breaking the awkwardness and finally giving Murphy room to laugh out aloud at the sniffling Mexican, Connor laughing along with him just as loudly.

"Fucking assholes…" Romeo said, face still scrunched up from his little emotional slip, "…shut up…" he mumbled as they continued to laugh.

They kept laughing for a short while after that, Murphy felt better for it as he sunk back into the seat, shaking his head as Connor huffed out a few last laughs and Romeo grumbled,

"You guys, that ain't cool man." He was pouting.

Christ, what a baby, Murphy just ran a hand over his mouth and turned his attention back to the day-lit streets of Boston and he felt Connor sit forward in the back seat, his forearms rested on the two front seats,

"The fuck are yeh' sniveling about anyway?" he asked with a smile in his voice and when Murphy glanced at his gorgeous twin, he smiled too, because Connor's smile was worth smiling about.

Romeo was too busy avoiding looking at them to notice when Connor glanced at Murphy and winked before turning back to Romeo, who was shaking his head and staring straight out of the windscreen,

"Just…it's my uncle man…" he sniffled again, fucking hell.

"What? Yer' crying because he didn't believe you were helping us?" Connor frowned but continued smiling.

"We sorted that out, we told him yer' with us, what the fuck is yer' problem?" Murphy added, looking at Romeo like the idiot he was.

Romeo sniffled, shook his head and then glanced at them,

"That's just it, you guys, you told him I was really a part of this shit and he…he…" more sniffles, turning his head the other way, Connor and Murphy exchanged confused glances, "…now he respects me, man." Romeo finished, nodding and trying to school his features into something more serious.

It took a few seconds to sink in and then the twins burst out laughing again.

* * *

* * *

Don't ask me why  
Don't even try…

* * *

They didn't end up going to an IHOP because it didn't have a drive-through, so they opted for the nearest McDonald's and Christ, it'd been so long since Connor and Murphy had had McDonald's, or any take-out food actually that it tasted far more amazing than any food should taste.

So they ordered a lot, deciding to binge a little.

And because Connor and Murphy were most recognized in South Boston, they drove out of the South area to a McDonald's specifically located in Back Bay, because Murphy wanted to. He remembered the church they'd been to the last time they'd been in Boston, many years ago when Rocco and Smecker had still been alive.

The church had been nice but not busy, he hoped it hadn't changed, he was really looking forward to seeing the inside of a church again after so many years of living out in the sticks of Ireland.

Connor hadn't objected…and neither had Romeo, who actually seemed to think it was a great idea.

Murphy hadn't said anything, but his respect for Romeo grew little by little.

He hated to admit it, but Rocco had never had any religious conviction whatsoever, he'd been purposeless, aside from revenge, when helping himself and Connor in their cause.

So it was nice, it was fitting that Romeo was a practicing catholic.

Before the church visit though, they decided to go to the Back Bay Fens, where they sat in the grass off to the side of one of the walking paths, mostly out of sight on the small inclining bank beside the water. They'd finished eating rather quickly and were now just sitting around, Connor was telling Romeo a couple of stories about their past adventures in Boston, stories from before they ever became the 'Saints' and the events leading up to it.

Murphy was sitting Indian style, leaning his elbows on his knees and chewing idly on the straw of his large coke while grinning as Connor concluded the tale of the Russian Ivan's flaming arse.

"You _actually_ set his ass on **fire**?" Romeo asked with wide eyes where he sat facing them more or less, one leg tucked underneath him and the other bent up.

Connor was sitting beside Murphy, close enough to be a brother but not close enough to be weird, his long jean clad legs were only slightly bent up, stretched out in front of him as he sat hunched forward, nursing a cigarette as he spoke,

"Aye." He was nodding, huffing out some smoke as he smiled, thinking back on the incident with amusement.

Murphy nodded as well when Romeo glanced at him, then he looked at Connor –and yes, his eyes may have lingered a second too long- before looking at Romeo again,

"Aye, he really did, he used some expensive whiskey too, an' he didn't even put the fire out, Doc had te' do et' with the beer hose." he added, finishing the coke with an annoying drawn out slurp.

"Man, that's ballsy…and kinda' fucked up." Romeo said with a grin of approval.

Murphy grinned as he placed the empty coke cup at his feet,

"O-course, he's Irish." Murphy complimented, "Big balls come standard." He added. Connor laughed and then nudged Murphy while looking at Romeo and removing the cigarette from between his lips,

"I got all the balls though, Murphy couldn't compete with me even in our Ma's womb, I got the better of everything." He snickered.

Murphy shoved him and mumbled a 'fuck you'. It was typical of Connor to make fun of him, so he didn't take it personally, but he did give Romeo a warning look which stopped the Mexican's near laugh dead in its tracks.

Connor continued talking after that, telling Romeo how they threw Ivan and his piece of shit buddies out into the alley behind Doc's after putting out the fire.

Murphy opted to distract himself with digging his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket and lighting one up.

He often tried not to think of the fact that in a lot of ways Connor had actually gotten the better genetic traits.

As it used to when they were teenagers, but hadn't in years, Murphy's personal insecurity over being the 'slighter', 'prettier' and 'quieter' twin reared its ugly head in that moment, because of Connor's little joke.

Murphy smoked the cigarette down to half in two long drags as he stared at the mostly still water surface a few meters away, feeling comfortably warm wearing his coat in Boston's late Autumn, but feeling cold inside –as opposed to how hot it usually made him- just picturing Connor's physical stature.

All their life Connor had more natural musculature than Murphy had ever been able to definitively achieve, sure he had muscle, but it was never as well outlined or visible as it was on Connor. Aside from being physically 'superior', Connor was also more mentally collected. He was the level headed twin, the diplomatic one, the thinker, the one who despite not having had grades as academically good as Murphy's when they'd been in school, he'd still managed to be more liked by teachers and nuns, which went a longer way than good grades in terms of getting through their teenage years.

Neither of them had ever been popular with their peers, but that was only because back then Connor had been arrogant as fuck and Murphy had been far quicker to anger…and they'd spent a lot of time fighting with other kids, together, they'd always been together.

That at least would never change.

Connor was now telling Romeo about how the Russians had come after them the next morning and Murphy vaguely noticed that Connor skipped right over his feat of ripping a toilet up out of the concrete floor and the part about jumping off a five story building, instead he just went straight to the part where they killed the Russians and ended up at the police station.

Murphy stared at his cigarette as his mind drifted again, they'd talked about it in Ireland, early on, one night when they'd been alone and had eagerly gone to bed. And in the aftermath of their always great sex, Connor had told Murphy how afraid he'd been at the thought, the idea, of Murphy dying that day, he'd told Murphy that that was what had driven him to rip the toilet up. Fear of losing him.

Murphy backtracked a bit in his mind, to the events before that conversation, _the sex_. Yes, it was always great, they'd never had a bad experience together, not even their first, inexperienced time. But Murphy's mind didn't linger on that, he thought instead of how, now that they were _that_ close, his insecurity had had time to add new details to their physical differences.

Specifically the difference that, according to their mother, affirmed that Connor was the older twin and even though the difference was slight, it was there, as with all of their other differences.

Murphy sighed to himself, feeling stupid because he was being a moron and he knew it, he'd long since buried all of that shit. It meant nothing, Connor didn't see him as any less…no, in fact Connor had told him so many times how much he loved him, just how much he loved every part, every angle, every sight and texture and inch and sound and scent of Murphy.

He was smiling slightly to himself as he finished his cigarette, all of those insecurities once again slipping away when Connor's arm was thrown around his shoulders, bringing him back into the conversation,

"Murphy here had no faith in the rope-…"

"Oh, Christ, Connor, you and the fuckin' rope…" he rolled his eyes and pressed his forehead into the heel of his palm, casually remaining under the welcome weight of Connor's arm.

"…but et' practically saved our fuckin' lives."

"The fuck, don't exaggerate Connor, et' was a fluke." Murphy laughed, jabbing Connor in his ribs, even though it wasn't an exaggeration. Stupid rope had kept them from hitting the ground and trying to recover straight into a gun fight with nine armed men.

Connor laughed and slowly removed his arm so Murphy could sit up properly again, both of them smiling…Romeo was too mind you.

"You guys are crazy…" Romeo looked awed and excited, "…but like, the good kind of crazy." He added.

"Rocco was fuckin' crazy, brought a six shooter to a nine man execution." Murphy brought up with a fond smile as he dropped his filter into the coke cup after opening the plastic top.

"Fuckin' idjit…" Connor said smiling as well.

"The funny man." Murphy quipped.

"Aye, his schupid jokes is what made Ivan knock his tooth lose that night in the bar." Connor frowned, shaking his head.

"He always did have a big mouth though." Murphy agreed.

Their smiles had faded and Romeo was quiet, watching them and Murphy tried not to notice how awkward the Mexican looked. Connor looked at Murphy then and said twin looked at Connor,

"We should go an' see him." He said quietly.

Murphy nodded, completely agreeing because they'd never been to see Rocco after he died.

"Aye, after church."

Connor nodded and they both looked again at Romeo, who belatedly nodded too, looking like the Jesus bobble head on the dashboard of his hideous car and making Murphy and Connor shake their heads and smile at him.

Romeo was no Rocco, but he was definitely something.

"Let's go…" Connor got up easily, smacking the side of Murphy's head lightly. Murphy watched as Romeo stood up and Connor smacked him too, quite a bit harder and then Murphy made to get up himself, gathering his and Connor's food wrappings so he could throw them away before he followed behind his twin and Romeo.

His emotions were stuck in between feeling sad about Rocco, irritable about starting to like Romeo and the overwhelming and ever present feeling of totally and completely loving and needing Connor.

* * *

* * *

A stroke of luck or a gift from God?

* * *

The church visit went well.

Murphy had been content kneeling beside Connor and praying as they'd done countless times…and the fact that Romeo had _actually_ knelt down to pray as well earned said Mexican some more respect, and even more when he'd respectfully prayed from in the pew opposite the one the twins chose, a sign that he knew how personal their prayers were, how true their dedication to God and each other was and how much they valued it and needed to pray privately.

Rocco had never understood that.

But Murphy and Connor had loved the stupid Italian all the same.

After the church, visiting the columbarium had gone well too.

Once they'd driven back into South Boston, Murphy and Connor had had a discussion slash argument as they'd tried to remember where the building was, since Smecker had told them of the place when they'd been in New York _years_ ago and they'd near forgotten. Romeo had just endured their arguing, driving around until together they'd managed to remember the address.

They were lucky that it had been as empty as a tomb. Yeah, Connor made that joke and Murphy had punched him in the arm for it, even as he tried to laugh quietly since the place had also been as quiet as a fucking tomb.

And seeing Rocco's name and picture on that wall and knowing his cremated remains were stored there had been sad but also comforting, because at least he'd been given a respectable funeral and a decent place to rest.

And even though the mug shot photograph his family had used had been harsh, unflattering and hilarious, Rocco was at peace.

* * *

* * *

The hand of fate or devil's claws?

* * *

The entire scenario did give Murphy pause though, but only a few hours later after having stopped in at Doc's to check in and suit up, guns, gloves and game faces on to meet gorgeous fucking George They were driving toward Tando's Tanning Salon on Bunker Hill, and Murphy found himself thinking of the fact that there were no photographs of himself and Connor as adults either. Which meant that one day when they were dead, there would be no memory of them aside from hearsay and those creepily accurate composites.

Or if they ever ended up arrested and then they died, maybe their mug shots would also be used at their funerals.

It was a morbid and unsettling thought and it suddenly made Murphy want to take photographs of them and keep it safe, maybe send it back to Ireland…to their Ma. He raised his eyebrow, thinking that that actually sounded like a solid idea and wondering if he would get a chance to buy a disposable camera or something.

His thoughts were cut short though when Romeo parked his awful car around the corner from the tanning salon. Cesar had called when they'd been at the columbarium and told Romeo where to find George, informing them that he always attended his salon appointment, every time without fail.

Murphy remembered the fat fuck they'd killed at the Sin Bin years ago and he shook his head subtly as they walked along the street toward the salon, he was thinking of how predictable the Italian mafians were, and over confident too, walking around Boston like they owned the place, forcing good people to live in fear.

The trio turned into the alley that would lead to the back entrance and they discreetly made their way inside, Murphy and Connor had a gun each at the ready, to threaten the staff to be quiet, but they didn't come across anyone as they made their way through the staff only area of the salon.

It was only when they were headed toward the back rooms with the tanning beds that a young blonde woman rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw them, her eyes widening as she paled.

Murphy and Connor made sure their guns were visible and Murphy noticed that unlike Rocco, who would have aimed his gun at the civilian woman without rational thought, Romeo visibly hesitated with the small 22. And Murphy knew it was because neither of them had raised their weapons, so Romeo was doing the same. It was another good point to Romeo in Murphy's eyes.

Connor was right, Romeo wasn't reckless.

On the subject of not reckless and Connor, Murphy left his twin to handle the frightened woman because that was what Connor was good at. Said twin leveled the girl with a non-threatening look and spoke in an even and only slightly intimidating, quiet tone,

"Gorgeous George." Was all he said, raising a questioning eyebrow.

As so many people before her, she looked them over, even as she started to shake lightly, but once she looked properly and more than likely compared them in her mind to the descriptions that just about every Boston native was privy too of the 'Saints', she relaxed fractionally and nodded before turning and walking down one of the halls.

After the twins shared a look of agreement they followed her, Romeo in tow, and they stopped outside a closed door where the woman had led them. She nodded toward the door nervously and Connor nodded at her,

"Keep yer' people busy, no one's te' come back here, we won't be long." He said very quietly, giving her an instruction like it was the most normal thing to do and she nodded again, more surely.

Murphy watched her walk away with a forced calm in her gait, a part of him trusted that she wouldn't go and call the police, but the cautious, realistic –paranoid- part of him felt like they should hurry the fuck up. As per normal, he looked at Connor and nodded, giving his twin the go ahead to make the choice of how they should proceed.

Connor nodded at Murphy, glanced at Romeo and then opened the door and walked in.

Murphy went in behind him and Romeo closed the door once they were all inside, standing in a row and listening to George sing obnoxiously loud from inside the tanning bed, his arm extended from inside so he could hold his glass of liquor, oblivious to their presence. Murphy cocked an eyebrow, supposed it was a good thing they hadn't been able to hear him singing from outside, because it meant the room had thick walls.

With a glance at Connor's smirking face, he'd probably been thinking the same thing, Murphy went forward with a spring in his step and he leapt up more than necessary to land heavily in a sitting position on top of the tanning bed cover with enough force that it would hurt George. At the same time, Connor crouched down beside where George's head was and placed his gun between the cover and base, against George's temple.

George's singing was abruptly cut when Murphy landed, making said twin smirk slightly when it was followed by muffled groans and protests and grunts, stemmed and obstructed by the fact that Murphy was putting his full weight on the man's protruding gut and stunting his breathing.

"…lovely singing voice there, Georgie." Connor said quietly and Murphy smirked wider. Romeo was standing by, looking a little jittery, like he was pumped with adrenalin and waiting for something to happen. The twins both felt pretty normal though, relaxed. This was nothing to them, "We'd like yeh' te' sing fer' us, can yeh' do that fer' me?" Connor asked nicely enough as he held the gun in place and George struggled beneath Murphy's relaxed weight, managing out a pained, 'yeah' in response.

"Can yeh' do that fer' me?!" Connor yelled when he asked the second time and George struggled out a louder 'yeah'. Murphy sat tight as George struggled, until he heard Connor tapping his gun on the cover, and Murphy followed the signal and jumped off the cover just as heavily, pressing his weight down before getting off.

He turned around and lifted the cover up just as Connor yanked George out so that the Italian landed on his hands and knees on the floor, breathing heavily and loudly as he complained about the treatment.

Murphy had to look away for a second from the gross sight of the man in bright _pink_ Speedo's.

Then he channeled his grossed out feeling into anger, because it all rushed into him then, that the bastard whining about being a gentleman of _leisure_ , was partly responsible for the death of the priest. So he grabbed a painful handful of George's hair, yanking the man harshly to his feet and dragging him backwards before throwing him against the nearest wall harshly, where he and Connor pinned George.

It had been an unintentional thing, but they pinned him in a Jesus Christ position without a second's thought to it. George's arms were up at ninety degree angles to his body on either side and Murphy and Connor pressed their Berettas to his palms as they held him against the wall by his forearms.

George looked like he was shitting himself, he was so terrified.

Murphy felt his adrenalin kick in, felt his blood rush hot and driven through his veins as he pressed the barrel of his gun sorely into George's palm,

"We want the name of the shooter you motherfuckers used on that priest." He demanded, staring straight into George's wide, panicked eyes.

Connor remained silent, letting Murphy take the reins.

"What priest?" George said stupidly, giving Murphy a reason to get angrier.

Murphy backhanded him forcefully and it felt ridiculously good,

"His fuckin' name!?" he demanded aggressively.

"I don't know who it is!" George denied.

Bad idea.

Romeo announced that it was bullshit, Connor and Murphy agreed, they shared a look and stepped back, naturally synchronized as they distanced themselves from George, keeping only their guns pressed to the whimpering man's palms and cocking back the hammers simultaneously.

Then suddenly George was confessing,

"It's the truth! Concezio didn't tell nobody what he was doing because he knew nobody would have ok'd it!" he said in one rushed breath, "The shooter's an independent contractor! That's all I fucking know!" he finished, rushed and stressed as the twins glared at him.

Murphy didn't step up that time, allowing Connor to take the reins back because he'd sensed the anger rising in his twin,

"Where the fuck is Yakavetta hiding?" Connor slapped his hand to George's neck as he grabbed the man's gold chain and choked him with it, seething, talking through clenched teeth.

George was choking slightly as he spoke but they were able to make out what he was saying and Murphy and Connor exchanged a look.

George had said the Prudential Building, 40th floor.

There was a phone ringing, Murphy glanced over to Romeo, who was seeking out the phone and the Mexican picked it up and tossed it over to Murphy without glancing at it. Murphy caught it and gave Romeo a look of approval, however brief and subtle before he looked at the phone.

He'd only spent a short amount of time fiddling with Romeo's phone so he wasn't really used to it, but George's one was straightforward enough that he was able to open the text message with the press of a single button,

"Yeh' meeting someone tonight?" Murphy asked when he saw the single word 'where' on the message, and he set his severe gaze back on George as he handed the phone to Connor after his twin stopped choking the Italian.

"Yakavetta's racket chiefs." He answered without pause, singing just as Connor had asked him too, "Street guys…you're kinda' guys." George said enthusiastically, "You could take a real bite outta' crime here."

It disgusted Murphy, even though the men George was talking about were all scum and he absolutely wanted to kill every one of them, the fact that George sold them out so easily just pissed Murphy off, there really was no honor among thieves.

Connor smacked George in the face with the phone when the man continued to talk too much,

"…the fuck is that?" Connor asked about the message.

"Nobody forgot what you guys did to us last time?" George frowned as if it were obvious, "Everybody's hiding indoors, they give out the location an hour before." He looked from Connor to Murphy.

"My uncle's place is closed tonight, I got the key." Romeo piped up, indirectly making an offer to use the place.

That sounded good, the twins nodded to Romeo and then at one another before Connor smacked George's face lightly, smirking,

"How's Mexican work fer' you, George?" Connor asked and Murphy raised an eyebrow, watching George, "Would yeh' like that?"

The shaking man just continued breathing unevenly,

"Doesn't matter to me…" he shook his head, "…I think I just shit my European cut speedos." He informed them, completely unnecessarily.

Connor looked him over distastefully and Murphy shook his head, disgusted.

"We're taking his car." Romeo said abruptly, pulling his face at George's gross admission.

Murphy glanced at Connor and they both laughed.

* * *

From below or saints above?

* * *

The execution at The Silver Peso had gone a little awry somewhere near the end, but considering how badly things could have gone, Murphy took it as an overall win.

Neither he nor Connor had been shot, which was saying a lot considering how many times they'd used to get injured in the past, when they'd been working with Noah. Romeo also remained unscathed and…Eunice Bloom, well, she was kind of to thank for that, since one of them, maybe even all of them, might have been shot if she hadn't showed up when she had.

It had been going well, before the execution they'd even promoted Romeo, by Murphy's choice, deciding after the twins shared a look to give Romeo a proper gun, one of Murphy's own Berettas to boot. Murphy had done it to show his twin and Romeo that he was officially accepting the Mexican…and Christ, Romeo had wanted to cry again. It had been hilarious.

The plan had been fun in a way too, Connor had a weird mind, what with the duct tape and the message of Irish patriotism stuck and painted onto George.

And Romeo had been so stoked after getting to take an active part in killing his first mafia 'dagos'.

So in the aftermath of one of Connor's stupid slash clever plans, as dramatic and unnecessarily over the top as usual, the racketeers had all been dead, George's soul had been saved and the three of them had been in good spirits…but then things had taken an unexpected turn.

They'd had their guards down, which was a foolish thing, when they'd been shot at out of the blue.

They'd all ducked to the ground, the twins dragging Romeo down and then Connor and Murphy were reaching for their guns hastily. But as the shooting continued and none of the bullets had been aimed at them, they'd been suspicious and stressed because they'd had no idea what the fuck had been going on.

Turned out Eunice Bloom was their savior from the priest shooter, the twins hadn't even seen the fucker when he'd shot at them. Murphy was sort of pissed about that, he'd told Romeo to tighten up his game before the execution and yet he and Connor had dropped the ball big time.

Eunice Bloom also turned out to be an ally they hadn't known they had, a protégé of none other than Paul Smecker, God rest his soul, he was still helping them even in death. She was working with Dolly, Duffy and Greenly and in a way part of it felt just like old times, just that instead of the older, eccentric, sort of odd homosexual genius, Paul Smecker, there was the younger, heavily southern accented, smart mouth, genius, Eunice Bloom.

It was a strange switch, but it was one that Murphy could tell Greenly greatly appreciated, because he took every chance he had to check Eunice out from head to toe during the time they'd all spent drinking and catching up at McGinty's after the execution. Eunice had brought the cop trio to the bar after they'd left The Silver Peso, and aside from Greenly's wandering eyes, Dolly and Duffy were also checking her out, hell, even Romeo was looking her over, but they were all less obvious about it.

Murphy had looked her over himself, objectively, surmising that she was indeed attractive, and that coupled with her intelligence probably made her quite a dangerous lady. He knew Connor had probably checked her out too, Lord knows Murphy kept trying to catch his twin looking, all the while feeling fucked-up-jealous despite not yet having seen Connor's eyes wandering from her face at any time.

It was frustrating.

Eunice had brought the guys to the bar because it had apparently been time for her to stop fucking with their emotions, she'd been torturing them with the idea that she was investigating the 'Saints' and by association, the cop trio who were aiding them, since she took over the case. She had a cruel sense of humor to go with her looks and intelligence.

Despite all that though, it was great to see them, Murphy and Connor had waited until Eunice brought the guys inside before they'd popped up from behind the bar and had soaked the trio in water with the bar hose. There'd been a lot of shouting, first in panic and then in relief when the trio had finally seen the twins, then there'd been laughter and pleasantries and everyone had eventually settled down at the bar for some drinks.

Doc had turned in since it was after midnight, he'd trusted the state of the bar –which he'd been keeping closed while they were in town- to the twins care. Romeo, being as he had bartending experience, had gotten everyone a drink and they'd all sat and talked, catching up at first and then getting down to business after a while.

Eunice had showed Murphy and Connor a picture of Otelio Panza, their priest killer, she had said they needed to get to Yakavetta before he got to them.

Murphy had told her they planned to take Yakavetta out in 48 hours, as he and Connor –and Romeo- had discussed when they'd been waiting for her to show up with Dolly, Duffy and Greenly earlier.

Alike and unlike their hit on the first Yakavetta, they weren't going to wait too long to go after the main target, but they were going to plan better, overestimate higher, and they were going to accept help, seeing as how they had people willing and able to assist them.

Eunice had no problem with the plan and while the cop trio was shocked at first, after Murphy enquired if they were in or not, they had all decided they were in.

So far, the twins had part of a plan –one that was to date, Connor's most ridiculous yet and that so far Murphy was the only one privy too- and it was coming together slowly.

Connor had wanted to tell Eunice the plan, the fucking braggart, but she had declined. Much like Smecker, she apparently liked the challenge of picking the scene apart herself in the aftermath.

She had left the bar about a half hour ago, saying she had to look into something to do with the priest killer.

Murphy liked her, but he was also secretly glad that she was gone.

Presently it was just the six of them at the bar, and typical of American men who had just been in the company of an attractive woman, the conversation very easily became about how hot Greenly thought Eunice was. He was descriptive about what he liked about her –or rather, on her. Dolly and Duffy smiled while telling him he had no chance with her, Romeo was mostly reserved in his commentary, even as he agreed that she was hot.

And Connor, as he usually did when in the company of people, eased right in. He avoided saying anything dirty, which was different than before. Murphy remembered before they'd become 'Saints', times when they'd sit in the bar in the company of their friends and Connor had often been _really_ vulgar when talking about attractive women and their physical attributes, especially when it was just the guys they knew well sitting around them.

But right then he was talking like a complimentary gentleman…still though, by the compliments he paid Eunice, Murphy knew –as he'd expected- that Connor had checked her out, and really well too from the way he talked.

Murphy himself didn't really offer up much when they asked him, he either laughed, nodded or shrugged in regard to their crude jokes, sexual comments and lusty observations. And after a while, it was starting to get on his nerves, so he was relieved when the trio said they had to get going, since it was close to 2 AM and Duffy had a girlfriend to get home to, while Dolly and Greenly were just beat and cold, their clothes were still damp from earlier.

The twins bid the trio goodbye and then they returned to the bar, surprised to find Romeo pocketing his car keys and smokes,

"Where are yeh' goin'?" Connor asked, stopping at the corner of the bar and picking up his nearly finished shot of whiskey, drinking it down easily. Murphy stepped up beside him, sitting on the stool he'd been occupying all night as he retrieved the cigarette he'd placed on his ear earlier, putting it between his lips and lighting it up with Connor's Zippo which was beside the ashtray right where he sat.

"I gotta' go and see my uncle man, let him know exactly what went down in the bar because the police are gonna question him once they finally roll up on the scene tomorrow morning." He explained.

"He's gonna call et' in?" Murphy said more than asked, seeing how it made sense that Romeo would need to tell Cesar the whole story so the man could deal with the police without incriminating himself.

"Yeah, he's gonna have to work out a story." Romeo was already walking toward the exit.

Murphy didn't watch him go, rather he focused on staring at the wall of alcohol on the other side of the bar as he smoked, but Connor turned around as he sat down on the stool Eunice had been sitting on before she left, and he called after Romeo,

"Are yeh' comin' back tonight? Cause yeh'll have te' use the fire escape if yeh' are." He asked and informed the Mexican.

Romeo took a few seconds to answer, paused in the doorway,  
"Nah, I'll crash at his house, be nice to see my family in the morning." He shrugged.

Murphy didn't look over his shoulder at Romeo so he didn't see the man's face, but there was something in the Mexican's tone that made Murphy raise an eyebrow, because Romeo sounded like he was bowing out for the night on _purpose_ , as if he sensed that Murphy and Connor needed some time alone.

He might have just been imagining it, but Murphy honestly got that vibe.

And if he was right, then Murphy felt one hundred percent confident about Romeo being a part of the 'Saints', because Romeo seemed to get it. He understood how Connor and Murphy worked and that was integral to everything else working properly.

Rocco never did get that, and while Romeo would _never_ be David Della Rocco, what he was, had all of its own pros.

"Alright, Rome, we'll see yeh' tomorrow." Connor bid him and Murphy raised his cigarette hand in a half wave.

Seconds later the door opened and shut and they were alone.

Well, mostly, since Doc was upstairs, but Doc would be upstairs until the sun was up and not a minute sooner, old as he was, he didn't go rushing around for any reason.

So they were actually alone, for the first time since the hotel.

Murphy watched the cherry of his cigarette as Connor rotated on his stool to face him, resting his arms on the bar top,

"Busy night." He commented.

They glanced at each other as Murphy bobbed his eyebrows and took another drag on his cigarette,

"Aye…" he held the smoke in, frowned, and then exhaled, "…we fucked up tonight." He stated plainly.

Connor brought his smokes out of his pocket and lit one up, dropping the pack and the lighter on the bar top as he took his first drag and nodded,

"Aye, we did. Et' won't happen again…no more slip ups." He said somberly.

Their eyes locked again and Murphy smirked,

"Tomorrow we should take Romeo te' get his trainin' wheels off." He crushed his cigarette filter into the ashtray and stood up, walking around Connor so he could go behind the bar,

"D'yeh' mean…?" Connor asked, not needing to finish because Murphy nodded at him as he took a bottle of Jameson down from the wall of alcohol and he poured them two more shots before closing the bottle and leaving it on the counter, "…but are we actually takin' him with us, to the docks?" Connor asked.

Murphy looked at his twin, knowing Connor was curious because they hadn't even taken Rocco to their Irish gun dealer, but Romeo wasn't Rocco and Romeo wasn't former mafia and Romeo wasn't loud mouthed or reckless or crass. He nodded to Connor again.

Connor picked his shot up and drank it, pursing his lips in a smile as he nodded and looked at Murphy, who had yet to drink his shot, instead fiddling with the small glass, twirling it around between his fingers,

"Aye, that's a good idea, Murph, he's earned et'." Connor assented.

"He has…" Murphy said earnestly.

There was a beat of silence where Connor smoked his cigarette and Murphy drank his shot and then poured them another two.

Murphy glanced around the bar, most of it was in relative darkness because they only had the main bar lights on, they'd cleaned up the water from earlier after they'd doused the guys and everything else seemed to be in good order, Doc wouldn't be pissed at them, nothing was broken or damaged.

Murphy knocked back the second shot, narrowing his eyes as the liquor burned and wet his throat, clinging to tongue pleasantly, he loved the taste of good whiskey. It used to be his favorite taste, but since tasting Connor's mouth and his skin and his other more intimate things, it had taken second place.

He dropped his eyes to the bar as his thoughts wandered to the ever present desire he had to kiss his twin. Murphy had been fighting it all day, especially in the moment when they'd finished the execution and Connor had turned his attention to Gorgeous George. Connor had sidled over to George who had already literally shit himself, he had already been scared enough, but then Connor had unloaded the bullets from one of the racketeer's revolvers and he'd only left one in, making a dramatic threatening display of his intentions.

He'd then placed the revolver to George's temple and threatened the man in that American voice that Murphy _hated_ usually, but the words Connor had said –'you had best be right with your Jesus, boy'- were so well timed, said right before Connor intentionally held off on pulling the trigger, building tension and suspense just long enough that Murphy was sure George had shit himself a little more, and then Connor had pulled the trigger…and it clicked back on an empty chamber.

Connor had announced that 'praise be to Jesus' rather loudly, as George had staggered from relief, pale and sweaty and Connor had been clearly amused by his own cleverness. But it was when Connor had been reloading the revolver and he'd taunted George with a sinister warning and undertone, that Murphy had felt an inappropriate and ill-timed heat settle in his loins.

 _'_ _Georgie, yeh' know all good boys go te' heaven.'_

Connor had said it in just the right tone too and Murphy had thought he sounded so sexy, so quietly menacing. Murphy felt stupid just thinking about his internal swooning, even as he smiled to himself presently. He'd complimented Connor _neutrally_ in the moment, telling him it was a fine example of spiritual guidance, because they hadn't been alone and he couldn't have said anything more…they were almost never alone.

But right then…they were.

"What are yeh' smiling about?" Connor asked quietly, having finished smoking, he was watching Murphy.

Murphy looked at him,

"Just thinkin' about tonight, et' went well…overall." He wasn't going to admit his silly feelings now so many hours later, the moment had passed.

"Aye, et' did." Connor agreed and he sighed.

Murphy sighed as well, reaching for the bottle of Jameson and checking that it was sealed before he turned around and placed it back on the alcohol wall rack.

When he turned around again, Connor was standing up and he glanced around the bar as Murphy watched him, when Connor looked at him again, there was a shift in the atmosphere, Murphy felt it just like he felt the suggestive feelings coming across their connection and the heat rising in his own veins in response,

"So, we have a plan fer' tomorrow, but what about tonight, Murph?" Connor asked in a low tone.

Murphy cocked an eyebrow and worried his bottom lip with his teeth as he watched his –sexy- twin stand there, undressing him with his eyes,

"I don't know, Conn, what do yeh' have in mind?"

* * *

…you come to me now.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Apologies for the delay in continued uploading.

* * *

Bless your body, bless your soul  
Pray for peace and self control...

* * *

Connor watched Murphy as his twin stood, staring blankly at the bar top with a small smile on his face and thinking about something distractedly. Connor had been subtly watching Murphy all night, since they'd returned to McGinty's after the execution.

His twin's mood had deteriorated slowly as the hours passed, Connor had watched him pretend to be fine but through their connection, even presently, it was obvious that Murphy wasn't one hundred percent okay. But then, despite coming out on top, the evening had been sort a mess and Connor also felt down about it, so he figured that was what Murphy was upset about.

He didn't want them to dwell on any of that though, things had turned out well enough, they had allies and an awesome plan, they also knew where to find Yakavetta and Romeo had turned out to be a good choice of a third man for the 'Saints'. Best of all…right now, they were alone. So as far as Connor could tell, things were going well.

"What are yeh' smiling about?" he asked to bring Murphy out of whatever he was thinking about.

Murphy blinked, raised his eyebrow as he looked at Connor and then absently he chewed on his inner lower lip, drawing Connor's eyes to his mouth unintentionally,

"Just thinkin' about tonight, et' went well…overall." He said quietly, sounding honest enough, but Connor knew Murphy was still disappointed, because Connor felt the same way.

He watched his twin tighten the lid of the bottle of Jameson they'd been drinking from, before Murphy placed it back on the rack,

"Aye, et' did." Connor said distractedly as he stood up from the stool he'd been sitting on at the bar.

Connor was waiting for Murphy to turn back around and face him so they could level with one another, to let Murphy feel what he was feeling, so Murphy would know what Connor was thinking, because right then, as Connor had been thinking intermittently throughout the day, Murphy looked gorgeous.

Connor noticed that his twin's hair was oddly dark under the bright bar lights, also slightly longer than it had been years ago before they'd ever grown it out, but still short and cut in the same style, slightly long at the sides of his face, short everywhere else and it looked – and more than likely was- as soft as ever, Connor knew. Murphy's eyes caught the bar lights, making them seem darker or lighter depending on the angle, his fair skin, his mouth…the sexy hike of his eyebrow, his lean body complimented by the well fit gray shirt and dark blue jeans he wore…it was all of the things Connor already knew so well but always enjoyed seeing.

All of the things he loved to re-experience, skin and hair and breath and touch and sound and sight, everything that was Murphy, real and perfect, all of the things he only ever got to enjoy when they were –so rarely- alone.

"So, we have a plan fer' tomorrow," he started quietly, watching Murphy's eyes narrow thoughtfully before he glanced around the empty bar and then looked back to his twin, "but what about tonight, Murph?" he raised an eyebrow in question.

Murphy worried his lip with his tongue, yet again drawing Connor's eyes to his mouth,

"I don't know, Conn, what do yeh' have in mind?" he tilted his head slightly, his tone curious.

Connor licked his lips and walked along the length of the bar front,

"Well, we should lock up the bar…turn in…" he suggested.

Murphy glanced toward the door in the far back end of McGinty's, to where he knew the stairs leading up to the speakeasy was…above Doc's place of residence, and it occurred to Connor then that fucking in the place that Doc had given them to stay just didn't sound right, let alone how it would feel with the man just a floor below them.

He was frowning and Murphy huffed out a laugh,

"Yer' realizing that'd be fucked up, we can't do that…" Murphy had an eyebrow raised, his ears were a little red and he was looking guilty already, when they hadn't even done anything.

Connor made a face and shrugged,

"Aye, et'd be fucked up." He sighed and ran a hand through his untidy hair.

It felt like they were back at the place they'd been the night before, wanting to be alone so they'd taken a walk but all they'd managed was to kiss. Now they wanted to be alone again, but they had no options of any place to go and as much as Connor loved to kiss his twin, he was _aching_ for more.

He'd already been having trouble coming to terms with falling back into their old patterns from over the years, he didn't want it to be that way anymore, but what could they do? This was their lives. It would always have to be a secret.

Murphy looked resigned as well and Connor watched him as he sat on the bar top and then swung his legs over before dropping off again, standing beside Connor,

"I need te' piss…" he leaned in close, lips to Connor's ear as he lowered his voice, "…when I get back yeh' can tell me if you thought of any brilliant plans fer' us te' _fuck_." Connor inhaled deeply and slowly, pursing his lips as Murphy punctuated the last word in his lowest, sexiest tone, before his twin patted his stomach in a completely brotherly way –the fucker- and then Murphy walked away toward the toilets, which were situated next to the bar end. Connor turned slowly and watched Murphy disappear behind the swinging door a few meters away from where he stood.

"Christ…" he was already half way hard, when you were as horny as he was it didn't take much. He sniffed and looked around the bar as he swiped a hand over his mouth, the bar was yet another place he would not be comfortable even so much as kissing Murphy in, not because it would be disrespectful to Doc, but because it was too open.

Connor clenched his jaw, wondering if it would be too crazy to actually go out and stay in a hotel just so that they could be together. But the scenario would be trouble personified because firstly, they'd have to walk to any hotel without a car, risk, and then they'd almost definitely be recognized when checking in to any hotel in Boston and therefore would be running a bigger risk, the very high risk, of getting turned in.

Because all it took was one mistake to fuck up everything.

Connor gave the bar area a final resigned glare, deciding there would be no getting any that night, and then he walked to the main doors and locked them soundly before heading back inside and switching the bar lights off, casting himself into almost total darkness, aside from the faint light coming from under the door of the toilets.

He glanced to the shiny bar surface while he patted his hand over his jeans absently until he felt his Zippo was safely there and then Connor slipped his hand into his pocket, heading toward the toilets to let Murphy know he had no brilliant plan…

…except, as he walked, a brilliant plan presented itself.

Connor stopped just short of the toilet door as he grinned to himself and a second later Murphy came out and nearly walked into him. Murphy stopped just short of knocking him back, his hands coming up to grab Connor's arms as the door bounced closed against his back,

"Christ, Conn, the fuck are yeh' just standin' here for?" he asked in an even but subconsciously quieter voice because everything besides the white light of the toilet behind them was in darkness,

"I just came up with that brilliant plan yeh' asked fer'." Connor said, also quietly and Murphy cocked an eyebrow, about to ask what it was, but Connor didn't wait, he simply grabbed Murphy's shoulders and essentially pushed him back into the toilet room for men and then he shut the door once they were inside.

Doc had closed the bar a few days ago, just before they came, so the bathrooms had been unused, it still smelled like whenever Doc's cleaning person had last been in there, it wasn't lemony fresh, but it wasn't bar night drunk stank either. It was neutral. Additionally and most importantly, the door locked.

Connor made that point when he turned the dead bolt and locked them in, and Murphy stood in reaching distance as he looked from the locked door to Connor,

"Yeh' want te' fuck in Doc's bar?" he asked even quieter than he'd been speaking outside of the closed door.

Connor frowned,

"This is the fuckin' loo, et's not the bar, Murphy…" he shook his head, whispering too, dammit, "…an' besides, et's not like we'd be the first or the fuckin' last people te' fuck in this bar, the loo area specifically." He gestured with a twirling finger to their general vicinity.

Murphy glanced around the white tiled, wooden stalled, not very large room and then he sighed,

"What if he hears us?"

Connor half rolled his eyes and reached out, grabbing Murphy by the front of his shirt and the side of his neck and pulling his twin against him firmly, their breaths mingling on Murphy's exhale, their mouths inches apart as Connor took a half a step back and leaned his weight against the door with a quiet thud,

"Doc can barely hear us when we're talkin' right at him, Murph, he's not gonna hear yeh' moan from all the way upstairs in his fuckin' sleep…" Connor caressed his hand upward, playing his fingers lightly through the soft hair at the sides of Murphy's face, "…besides, if yer' paranoid, just keep et' down."

He leaned in then and kissed Murphy, their lips aligning almost perfectly, they'd kissed each other so many times.

They shared a few kisses, touches of tongue and slow exhales before Murphy drew back, his hands came up from where they'd been at his sides and he slipped them into Connor's hair as he pressed the length of his body against Connor's. Said twin groaned quietly, his other hand firmly caressing down and around over Murphy's side to his lower back, where Connor slipped his fingers under the hem of his twin's shirt to touch skin.

He tried to catch Murphy's lips again but his twin avoided it, smirking,

"Yeh' sound sure that I'll be the one moanin'…" he said quietly.

Connor frowned,

"Aye…yeh' happen te' be rather vocal during sex, Murph." He pointed out the truth with a teasing smile just inches from Murphy's lips. On purpose, Connor was sure, Murphy skimmed his tongue over his bottom lip,

"Well, et's been so many years since I last fucked yeh', I can't actually remember if you were noisy?" he bobbed his eyebrows.

Connor tensed as he realized what his twin was saying. He'd agreed to bottom for Murphy back in the hotel…and he'd meant it, he would, but he was an uncomfortable submissive and when it happened he'd really rather have the whole toot to help him through it.

The absolute privacy, a bed, ample lube, no noise worries…intimacy…Christ, he sounded like a fucking woman even to himself.

He had spaced out for a second until he heard Murphy sigh deeply and he looked at his twin's defeated expression,

"Yeh' changed yer' mind?" he asked dully.

Connor sighed and shook his head, because he'd told Murphy he would, so he would,

"No, I told yeh' I'd do et'…so if yeh' really want te', then fine." He nodded, his fingers still tickled by the hair at the side of Murphy's face as he traced the shell of his twin's ear.

"Et's plain as fuckin' day that yeh' don't want te', Connor." Murphy shook his head, pulling back.

Connor held onto him with the hand around his twin's waist, keeping him close and Murphy didn't exactly heave away, despite still leaning back,

"I do want te', just not in here." Connor said it and then regretted it, because Murphy's eyes narrowed dangerously and their link became of whip like consistency, resonating hostility.

That time Murphy forcefully yanked himself out of Connor's hold,

"So et's ok if I'm bending over in here, but not you?" he sounded genuinely insulted and while Connor nearly launched into a string of apologies and excuses, he opted in the end to just be honest,

"Murphy…I'd just rather not be standin' up." He said very quietly and then he stood off the door, "And yeh' know fer' a fuckin' fact that if yeh' ever had te' tell me yeh' didn't want te' have sex in a place that you weren't comfortable with, I'd never insist that yeh' did." He pointed at the floor, speaking through clenched teeth and

feeling like a piece of shit because now he wondered if that time they'd had sex in that gas station bathroom, Murphy had just gone along with it but hadn't actually wanted to.

"Fuck…" he panicked slightly and turned around, leaning on the bathroom door with his forearms and hanging his head, "…I'd hate te' fuckin' think I've been making yeh' do things yeh' don't…" he trailed off because Murphy had come up behind him, hands on his shoulders, sliding down his back and then settling on his waist, lightly tugging so Connor would turn around.

He did so, clenching his jaw and swallowing the lump of strain and emotion in his throat as he leaned against the door again and looked at Murphy, who looked both irritated and sad,

"We can do et' whenever yer' comfortable…" he sighed and then in an un-Murphy like moment he pressed his face into Connor's neck, making said twin frown and rest a hand on the back of Murphy's head, "…or even if yeh' never want to, Connor. I'm happy with the way et' is…whatever et' is…" and then he mumbled so quietly that Connor nearly missed it, "…I just want te' make you happy."

Connor didn't know if he should have been elated hearing that or incredibly sad, should he feel loved and honored, or upset and guilty that Murphy would do anything to make him happy?

"I want te' make you happy too, Murph." He breathed out, his voice tense and hoarse with sincerity and emotion, he pressed a kiss to the side of Murphy's neck,

"You already do, Conn." Murphy mumbled against his skin, the length of his body warm, firm and flush against Connor's as they stood there.

Connor waited until Murphy lifted his head before he held his twin's face and kissed him reverently, slowly, easing into it, lips and slight moisture from breathing, working up to light licks and then proper kisses, deep tongue strokes, soft suckles and sensual pressure.

Lips and breath and love between them.

Connor expected that sex was off the table right then, neither of them felt comfortable enough for it, so even when eventually Murphy's hands left his face and he deftly unfastened Connor's belt and his jeans buttons, they both mutually knew they would only use their hands. Murphy tugged at the layers of Connor's underwear and jeans, before his twin briefly separated their mouths to lick the palm of his right hand, coating it with spit before slipping it between their bodies and taking Connor's sex into his hot, slightly moist grip.

Connor sucked in air through his teeth and pressed his head back into the door before Murphy kissed him again and steadily masturbated him, thoroughly tonguing his mouth, not teasing with his hand or working up to it, just earnestly stroking Connor's cock in a consistent, moist grip.

Murphy knew he enjoyed the friction of his twin's rough hand with just a comfortable amount of lubrication and Connor just knew that Murphy intended to bring him off quick. There was no hesitation in the technique of his hand or the depth and want in his kiss, the tremble in his other hand as it caressed and touched the expanse of Connor's bare torso beneath his shirt.

Murphy's various, scattered emotions in that moment were heady and insistent, they were clouding Connor's judgment as they merged with the raw sexual feelings he was experiencing right then. But for the first time, Connor felt _desperation_ from his twin somewhere in the mess of their connection, and that was unsettling.

"Murph…ah…fuck…" Connor tried to speak, turning his head to the side slowly, severing the kiss, but Murphy didn't ease up, instead he kept on uninterrupted, breathing quietly, face pressed into the exposed side of Connor's neck as he masturbated Connor with more intent.

Connor let out a string of broken curses as he found himself unable to catch his breath or keep his eyes open and after just a few more determined strokes, he was coming in Murphy's hand with a quiet, ragged moan as Murphy sucked a mark dangerously close to the area of his shoulder and neck that not all of his shirts would cover.

He attempted to ask what Murphy was doing –foolishly, as he orgasmed-, but only managed a hoarse half formed 'what the fuck' as he clutched a handful of his twin's hair. And Murphy just kept working his cock, gradually slowing his strokes, the squelching sounds were obscene in the absolute quiet of the bar and the room around them so Connor pressed his head back into the door, resigning himself to riding out his orgasm before trying to speak again.

Murphy was breathing deeply against his neck and by the sound of it, he was breathing solely through his nose. Connor opened his eyes again when Murphy's hand finally released his softening cock and said twin stepped back, putting a foot of distance between them. Connor leaned his head forward,

"Murph…" he said weakly and glanced down at his exposed state before slowly tucking himself back into his clothes. Murphy had caught him completely off guard and had literally disabled him from speech by the sheer determination behind that hand job. Connor was very confused and frowned, tilting his head to see Murphy's face.

Murphy looked distinctly _unhappy_ and Connor was thrown, stuck between guilt and confusion as he fastened his jeans, because just minutes ago Murphy had said he was happy but now he looked anything but.

Connor shook his head as he refastened his belt,

"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding as baffled and hurt as he felt and he brought his hands up to hold the sides of his twin's face when they looked at one another. Murphy's eyes were intense, a frown slowly easing into his features,

"Are you happy with me, with us?" Murphy asked quietly, his face looked paler and his blue eyes seemed distant.

Connor frowned and looked quizzically at his twin,

"Are yeh' really askin' me that?" he huffed out a laugh and smacked Murphy's cheek lightly, "Yeh' fuckin' know the answer te' that question…" he smiled and kissed Murphy's lips and his twin didn't hesitate to kiss him back.

They kissed for a while, going from mild kisses to making out over the course of a few minutes, but it was when Connor cupped his twin's erection through his jeans that Murphy's breath hitched and he broke off the kiss, exhaling heavily against Connor's open mouth.

Connor unfastened his belt slowly with a frown, because aside from sensing Murphy's arousal, he felt his twin's distraction just as pronounced, Murphy's emotions and thoughts were still scattered, still underlined with desperation,

"What's on yer' mind, Murph?" he asked gently, pressing a kiss to the corner of Murphy's mouth as he moved on to slowly unbuttoning his twin's jeans.

Murphy looked straight into his eyes, his gaze searching and his expression anxious,

"I'm just wonderin'…" Murphy's eyes closed briefly when Connor took his stiff cock into his hand,

"Aye, I'm listenin'." Connor teased, smirking as he stroked Murphy slowly and tightly.

Murphy exhaled shakily and ran his tongue over his bottom lip before he spoke quietly,

"…wonderin' if yeh' find me as…ah…" Murphy's eyes drifted closed again as Connor sped up his strokes and Murphy's sex throbbed in his hand, hot and textured and getting wetter at the tip, "…as _sexy_ as…agent Bloom?" he huffed out, his eyebrows drawing together as Connor worked his cock.

Connor frowned at the question, feeling his own body heating up at the feel of Murphy in his hand and the expression of pleasure on his gorgeous face,

"Who the fuck…Bloom…?" he glanced down between them as he spread Murphy's pre-come over the length of his erection with a few deft swipes of his thumb before readjusting his grip on his twin's slickening cock, and Murphy moaned at the same time as Connor figured out what his twin was talking about and he muttered, "…the fuck are yeh' talking about?"

Murphy's hips moved, thrusting slowly, lightly into Connor's hand and they both quietly moaned at the sexual feelings moving between their connection. Murphy was breathing heavily as he continued to move his hips, one of his forearms resting against the door beside Connor's head and his other hand firmly gripping Connor's waist. But his next question and moody tone of voice contradicted any sense of pleasure in Murphy,

"Am I, Conn, am I as _sexy_ as her, as _lovely_ and _winsome_ as she is…?" Confused, Connor stopped masturbating Murphy as he absorbed his twin's completely fucking random question and frowned in genuine confusion, "…or are those just qualities yeh' like as long as they come with a pair of knockers an' a fuckin' gee?" Murphy finished, hips stilling and the atmosphere dropping to a much colder temperature.

Connor blinked and blinked again, watching Murphy's nostrils flair with every breath he took, he was still flushed with arousal but his cock didn't seem to be holding up under whatever was bothering him. Connor released Murphy's sex and held his waist with both hands instead,

"Yer' askin' about what I said about Eunice earlier?" he clarified.

"Aye…" Murphy sniffed and raised an eyebrow.

Connor shook his head,

"I paid her a couple of compliments, nice fuckin' things said about a decent woman, the fuck are yeh' so upset about? I'm not the one talkin' about knockers and…Christ, where the fuck is this comin' from..." Connor snorted, "…are yeh' jealous cause' I said I think Eunice is pretty, Murph?" he attempted to tease his twin, "I think yer' pretty too, love." He brought a hand up to trace his finger along Murphy's jaw gently, smirking.

And Murphy gut punched him, literally, gave him an abdomen punch that was none-too gentle and Connor huffed out a pained curse as his back hit the door a bit noisily when he rested his weight against it,

"This is not a fuckin' joke." Murphy warned as he tucked himself into his jeans and underwear and refastened his buttons and belt.

"Oh aye, but et' is…" Connor said seriously as he stood up straight again, pushing Murphy backwards as he stood off the door, "…if yeh' expect me te' take yeh' schupid an' completely unfounded fears about me being interested in women fuckin' seriously, then ye' best believe I'm goin' te' take et' as a joke." He said firmly and then turned around, unlocking the door and walking out briskly, barely controlling his urge to throw a bar stool across the room, as that would be inconsiderate to Doc, so he resisted and made his way toward the stairs.

Connor clenched his jaw, irritable at the turn the evening had taken, all because Murphy's ridiculous hang ups –hang ups that Connor had thought were gone after so many years – had made a sudden come back. And all because of Eunice, the _first_ woman they'd properly come across since returning to America, after years of being completely isolated from anyone…

...oh, wait.

Connor frowned and stopped walking, standing in the dark bar area as it occurred to him…

…they'd been so detached from people for so long, so separate from men and women that now when presented with a female who was not just an attractive passing acquaintance but someone actively involved in their operations and would be working fairly closely with them, it would probably make Murphy uncomfortable.

Especially since Connor –and he felt like an asshole for it- had been dropping many comments and compliments about her earlier when the guys had been sitting around and talking. And Connor hadn't meant anything by it, sure Eunice was attractive, it was an obvious fact but it wasn't something he'd noted in any _special_ way. And the only reason he'd even talked about her was because the guys had been and it had been a long time since he'd got to kick back and just hang out with the boys.

Now, he realized that all that time during the conversation Murphy hadn't been particularly chatty and as Connor looked at it from his twin's perspective, to be fair, he also realized that it wasn't right for him to get angry over Murphy's insecurity when he still, to that day, always wondered if Murphy was really happy and would really stay with him forever. Their insecurities were very similar actually, just based on different fears.

Connor turned on his heel and made his way back to the bar toilets, he walked in and glanced around, his eyes settling on Murphy who was standing at one of the two wash basins, wiping his wet hands off on his shirt as he looked up at Connor via the mirror.

Connor sighed and closed the door again, absently locking it as he placed his other hand on his hip and shook his head,

"M'sorry, Murph…I was being really thick earlier, te' be saying those things about Eunice te' humor the boys, but I swear I meant nothing by et', they were just compliments, just words, simple as that." He tried to reassure Murphy, it was all he could think to do to ease the feeling of guilt rolling around in his stomach.

Murphy turned to face him and shrugged,

"I'm being fuckin' schupid anyway…" he brushed it off and looked at the floor tiles.

Connor approached him slowly,

"Aye, a bit, but I can't fault yer' fer' et', I've been really schupid myself many times in the past…" he stopped once he was standing in front of his twin and he raised his arms, placing them around Murphy's neck loosely, forearms resting on his broad shoulders and Connor smiled, "…I like that yeh' get jealous though, et's flattering." He said quietly.

Murphy narrowed his eyes but Connor didn't wait for a response, he leaned in and pressed his smirking lips to Murphy's, and said twin's top lip pressed between his own at the angle, soft and sweet. Connor felt Murphy's hands slide up his sides and come to rest on his flanks as Murphy inhaled lightly and pressed into the kiss.

They drew back slowly and then leaned in again, sharing a few lip to lip kisses, parting their lips but not using their tongues at first, instead just joining and sliding their mouths together with each slow kiss. After a minute they started angling into one another, their noses brushing, breaths quickening and tongues mingling, slipping in and out of one another's mouth slowly and wetly. Connor's hand found its way into the silken tangle of Murphy's dark hair as they kissed and Murphy pulled him closer as he ran his hands along Connor's sides and up and down the curve of his back, hitching Connor's shirt up in his loose fists every so often.

It was bliss. That was how Connor would describe that particular make up kiss.

He was proud of himself for figuring out what was distressing his twin and coming back to apologize, because he'd avoided what might have been a rather unpleasant ongoing tension between them had he been too stupid to pick up on the problem or had he been too prideful to apologize.

"I owe…yeh'…" Connor started to say in between kisses, "…a debt…" he hummed when Murphy sucked gently on his bottom lip, "…of…pleasure…"

Murphy drew back from the follow up kiss with a soft smack for only a moment to mutter against Connor's mouth,

"Yeh' don't owe me anything, just shut up…" before he pressed back in to continue kissing.

Connor found the butterflies that entered his stomach not to be half as endearing or pleasant as the soft content sigh Murphy made into the kiss when Connor sucked slowly on his tongue and caressed his fingers along the side of Murphy's neck and ear.

They spent a while kissing, just kissing…and despite Connor thinking that it would leave him unsatisfied and frustrated, when they finally left the bar, went upstairs and turned in to sleep, he fell asleep with a deep warmth in his body that was resonating through his connection to Murphy.

It felt like happiness.

And Murphy being happy made Connor's world feel just fucking right.

* * *

I gotta believe it's worth it  
Without a victory,  
I'm so sanctified and free  
Well maybe I'm just mistaken

Lesson learned and the wheels keep turning…

* * *

The following day the twins had only been awake for ten minutes when Romeo returned, it was mid-morning and he arrived with hot coffee and breakfast, making Connor and Murphy question him without words, just identical interrogative expressions as they lit up cigarettes to alleviate their morning grogginess. Romeo was in good spirits, talking about how his uncle had sent assurance that they didn't need to worry about anything, he had their backs and according to Romeo, Cesar had extended an open invitation for them to stay –hide- at his home if they ever needed a fall back hideout.

Connor made a mental note to thank the man as soon as they had a chance.

Following the explanation, they ate the breakfast sandwiches provided by Romeo and then they cleaned up and changed their clothes, and when Romeo asked where they were headed they told him it was a surprise.

Romeo didn't complain, he only followed enthusiastically, trusting the twins explicitly.

* * *

* * *

Their Irish arms dealer, strange fella that he was, didn't even look remotely shocked to see them when they arrived at his place a half hour later, he'd simply smirked and nodded at them. They had returned the nod and then he'd welcomed them inside, not even giving Romeo a suspicious look, as if the Mexican was approved of just by association with them.

The set up was in the exact same place, in the same building by the docks, the only difference after all the years was that the dealer's weapons cage was larger and upgraded. In his friendly but monotone voice, just as the twins remembered him, the dealer informed them that he'd expanded his operation and he'd credited their rumored affiliation with him as being the reason business was good enough to do so.

Romeo seemed stoked, the twins had given in on the way in the car and told him they were getting him his own guns, and he'd looked about to cry –again-, but after a glare from Murphy, he'd been doing his best not to seem too excited and Connor decided not to tease him about it. Bringing him there was about giving him the respect he deserved as an official 'Saint', it would be a shit thing to do to rag on him.

Besides, Connor knew he could always make fun of Romeo later.

As it was, they weren't there to get anything besides ammo for themselves, they had everything they needed really. It was just Romeo who needed a pair of guns. So while they waited for the Mexican to find something he liked, Connor and Murphy chose to admire a wall of shot guns and machine guns, because they were so very, very pretty, and they were genuinely surprised when the dealer called for their attention, saying that as 'preferred customers' they would get to choose weapons from his private reserve.

It was odd, to be so revered and the twins exchanged a quick look over the offer, making a silent agreement to see what the man had. Since…well just why not? It wouldn't hurt to _look_. They'd had the same faithful Berettas for years, if their dealer had something that suited them just as well but was better, far be it from them to turn their noses up, right?

And anyway, if Connor was honest, the idea of not getting something for himself and Murphy, felt about as fair as taking a kid into a candy shop and leaving without buying them anything.

It just wasn't right.

The dealer brought out two identical gun cases and laid them out on the table in front of the twins and after sharing another look, one that was more of a mutual thought of 'fuck yeah'.

Without any hesitation, the twins opened the cases…

…and Jesus fucking Christ.

If Connor were a lesser man, he would have gotten hard just looking at the two guns in the case, identical to the ones in Murphy's case that said twin was looking at with equal amazement. The guns were fucking **beautiful**.

Two pairs of black Desert Eagle .357 magnums with fitted silencers.

Neither he nor Murphy waited a second longer to pick them up, to feel the heavy, solid weight of the guns in their hands. Connor actually had to remember to close his mouth as he looked closely at the stunning firearms and Murphy was no better beside him, talking all quiet and calm, distracted, about feeling like some Willy kid with some ticket and a factory. Christ, Connor was hardly listening. He was too busy holding the Desert Eagle closer and staring at the fine finish of its surface.

But the dealer was listening and when he said 'Charlie' in response to Murphy's comment, all the words fell into place and Connor knew what Murphy had been mumbling about, he found himself nodding as his excitement got the better of him,

"Yeah, Charlie…" he breathed out, "…an' I want an Oompa Loompa now, daddy, **now**." He knew he sounded like an idiot, but in the moment it just felt appropriate.

Murphy probably hadn't even heard him, Romeo either since he was over by the gun racks.

Speaking of Romeo, Connor and Murphy were finally distracted from their gorgeous guns when their Mexican cohort walked up to the table with a gun case of his own and he placed it firmly down on the table with a look on his face that was so weepy Connor nearly laughed when Romeo announced that he'd be taking whatever was in the case.

It was sort of pathetic, how often Romeo was prone to tears. But Connor refrained from commenting, trying to stick to his plan of not making fun of Romeo that day, but Murphy on the other hand, was not quite so courteous,

"Have yeh' been crying again?" he asked as he leaned closer to look at Romeo.

"Yeah." Romeo said quickly, surely and a bit dramatically, "Tears of joy." Connor had to swallow his laughter. "Those are queer." Romeo added after glancing at their Desert Eagles and Connor's laughter died stuck in his throat.

Murphy looked annoyed too, glancing at his soon to be new guns and shifting his weight restlessly, clearly affronted and Connor just set his thoughtful gaze on weepy Romeo, watching as the man fidgeted,

"How much?" Romeo turned to the dealer when he asked.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, you boys are on the house." The dealer responded in his always calm, weird way of talking, his eyes moving from Romeo to Murphy, to Connor and back again.

Well, shit, being back in Boston was really turning out to be great, hell, to Connor it seemed like they were underground celebrities in their old city. Connor raised his eyebrows and nodded at the man,

"Obliged." He said evenly as Murphy gave his own appreciative nod of thanks to the man before the twins both looked at Romeo again, both of them still irritated at his comment about their Desert Eagles.

Honestly, even the dealer looked a little annoyed.

Murphy, being as he enjoyed pressing Romeo's buttons, stepped up closer to Romeo and gestured to his gun case,

"Well, let's see."

Romeo opened the wooden box, turned it so both Connor and Murphy could see what it contained…

Connor couldn't help it, the laughter was back, stuck in his throat after looking at the **gaudy** pair of .45 Para-Ordnance SSP's that were inside the case. The guns had _golden_ silencers and were engraved in gold fancy font with the words 'El Jefe'.

Romeo was practically begging to be made fun of.

Connor started smiling and nodding, highly amused, as Murphy made an effort not to outright insult the guns, Connor could tell just by looking at his twin that Murphy was biting back some snarky comment as he frowned down at the gun case.

"What?" Romeo asked when their quiet amusement started to bug him.

"Nothing." Connor said quickly, sarcastically, smile stuck on his face.

"What, are you saying I look gay?" Romeo asked, he really shouldn't have, but he said it, not Connor.

Murphy piped up then, probably unable to completely hold back any insults,

"No…" he said in a calm sarcastic tone and Connor closed his mouth against a laugh as Murphy raised his hands and wiggled his fingers, "…yeh' just hail from a colorful-…"

"Hey," Romeo cut Murphy off, Connor continued to snicker when the Mexican turned to the dealer, "you don't know me..." he reached for the .45's, picking one up with either hand, "…do these make me look gay?" he asked as he held the guns up at the sides of his head boldly, confidently.

Connor was nearly at his limit, he was about to burst out laughing and Murphy's lips were starting to twitch as well, both twins looked to the dealer who regarded Romeo for a second thoughtfully before he shrugged,

"Yeh' look like you mighta' seen one up close." He said in a very neutral tone.

Connor and Murphy burst out laughing, because that was all they could take.

In the end, it was the dealer who had made fun of Romeo, not Murphy or Connor.

And they were still laughing about it hours later, well, not Romeo, but that was understandable.

* * *

Bless your body, bless your soul  
Reel me in and cut my throat...

* * *

It was only much later when Connor thought about their visit to the dealer that he realized that the man had been _expecting_ them. He hadn't known when they would show up, but he'd somehow known they would, because he'd had those Desert Eagles ready, pre-cased even, and after Romeo had chosen his gay guns, the dealer had given them a large duffel bag, the contents of which consisted of ammo, new gun holsters, gloves…the whole toot.

All pre-prepared, just as Doc had been.

It made Connor smile to know that Boston still welcomed them after so many years.

Presently, they were back at Doc's, relaxing. Murphy was sitting on the pool table in the speakeasy, Connor was sitting in one of the chairs, facing where Murphy sat, his feet propped up on the pool table edge next to his twin and Romeo was leaning against the pool table on the other side of Murphy.

They were sitting around and discussing what would happen when they went after Yakavetta the following night, how it would all go down. Connor had just explained his brilliant plan to Romeo, who was nodding, loving it, grinning right along with Connor.

"That's a sweet fuckin' plan, Conman." Romeo raised his beer in salute, Connor shrugged in mock modesty and raised his own beer to the Mexican before he glanced at his twin who was shaking his head, chewing at the thumb nail of the same hand in which he held his burning cigarette, squinting through the smoke as he glanced from Romeo to Connor,

"Con man?" he snorted, shaking his head some more before taking a quick drag on his smoke, clearly amused by the nick name. Connor rolled his eyes and smoked from his own cigarette before he gestured at Murphy while looking at Romeo,

"Murphy has no faith in my plan." He informed.

Romeo looked at Murphy, swallowing a mouthful of beer,

"What's not to like?" he looked genuinely confused.

They both looked at Murphy, who raised an eyebrow and swung his legs idly, glancing between them,

"No, et's fine, definitely, I'm sure et'll work out fuckin' great." He said in a non-subtle sarcastic tone.

Connor just stared at him with a lazy smile, despite knowing Murphy's numerous reservations about the plan, his twin trusted in him, Murphy didn't trust the plan, but he trusted Connor to pull them through no matter what and that was all that mattered.

"Yeah, man…it's gonna be badass, vamos a matar a esos hijos de puta madre muerto." Romeo said excitedly. _(Let's kill those sons of bitches dead.)_

Murphy and Connor both started to snicker out smoke as they looked at Romeo,

"Aye, Rome, we'll kill them dead." Connor agreed.

Murphy sniffed and brought his beer to his lips, pausing to say,

"As opposed te', yeh' know, killing them so they're still alive after…" he took a drink, bobbing his eyebrows and Connor started laughing, his shoulders shaking,

"That'd certainly be a thing te' see, wouldnit'."

They laughed together and Romeo rolled his eyes,

"Eh, fuck you guys…you know what I mean." He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette.

Their laughter died down after a while and they settled into silence, sipping their Guinness' in between smoking, or in Romeo's case, sipping a Corona. Connor was confident things would go well, sure his plan was a little, what had Murphy called it? Oh right, excessive, but after all the time passed, Connor wanted to make a grand entrance when they killed Yakavetta, and crawling around in ventilation shafts just wasn't as fantastic and entering through the windows on the 40th floor of the Prudential building.

As long as everyone did their part, things would go smoothly. Probably.

Romeo took the final drink on his beer and glanced at the empties littering the pool table before he started to gather the bottle necks up between his fingers, taking a few of them over to the makeshift dustbin and dropping them in,

"I'ma get another beer, you guys want anything?" he offered, heading toward the door.

Connor nodded and Murphy declined, his twin finishing off the beer he was drinking as Connor placed his bottle down on the floor beside the chair. Romeo nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him, his footsteps carrying for a little while until they faded.

Connor smirked and stood up quickly, stepping up to Murphy, in between his legs and pushing them slightly wider to accommodate himself. Murphy blanched, his eyes darting to the door and then back to Connor before he narrowed his stunning blue eyes,

"Conn, what are yeh' doing?" he asked, traces of smoke wisping out of his mouth.

Connor leaned his hands, one with a cigarette, either side of Murphy where he sat on the pool table and without answering he kissed Murphy, catching his twin in an open mouthed kiss. Murphy hesitantly pressed into the kiss after sliding his eyes to the door warily and then back to Connor, closing them as he slid his tongue into Connor's mouth quickly.

The kiss was hasty and short because Romeo would be back soon, but it felt good anyway, quick and wet and a bit sloppy, Connor smiling into it and Murphy keeping his breathing quiet as their mouths opened and closed against one another's. It was only a few long seconds before Connor drew back, licked his lips, sat down again and propped his feet back up on the pool table and he took a long final drag on his cigarette, watching his twin with a sly smile.

Murphy glared at him, repositioning himself, bringing his legs closer together again and worrying his lower lip with his tongue. But then Murphy cleared his throat before putting his cigarette between his lips and smiling slightly, prompting Connor to wink at him.

The blush that crept up to cover Murphy's neck, face and ears left Connor hard pressed not to grin smugly over the reaction and a few seconds later when Romeo walked back in and asked them what was so funny because they were both smiling, they both answered 'nothing' in equally nonchalant tones and Romeo just shrugged it off and rolled his eyes.

* * *

...this is the world that we live in  
I can't take blame for two  
This is the world that we live in  
And maybe we'll make it through.

* * *


	10. Chapter Nine

* * *

 One at a time, constants become surreal  
One at a time, heart attacks are concealed…

* * *

Connor and Murphy spent Saturday morning and afternoon, the day of the evening scheduled execution of Yakavetta, meeting with Dolly, Duffy and Greenly at McGinty's. The cops came at different times of the day in order not to draw attention to themselves down at the precinct and Connor and Murphy talked each of them them through their roles in the plan.

The guys thought that Connor's ridiculous plan was creative, Murphy had a few more choice and honest words to describe it, but Connor just kept shooting him irritable looks whenever he snorted or shook his head at the explanations of the cop trios roll in the plan, so Murphy chose not to actually say anything.

Romeo had left early that morning since he was in charge of securing the Prudential's staff uniforms for himself and the cop trio, he apparently had connections and so he'd gone out to call on one of those people to get it sorted out.

Dolly's role was to drive the Prudential's laundry truck into the loading dock and Romeo would be in the back, pushing a loaded laundry cart in which Connor and Murphy would both be hidden inside along with their weapons bags.

Christ, Murphy was rubbing his forehead at how stupid it sounded, not to mention how cramped it'd be for the two of them to squash themselves into the cart.

Romeo would then roll the cart into one of the many service elevators, it had to be an empty one, and once inside the twins would get out of the cart before all three of them would lock and load their weapons. They'd go their separate ways from there, Romeo getting off on the 40th floor and the twins would ascend to the roof of the Pru.

On the roof Duffy and Greenly would be waiting, having commandeered control of a suspended scaffold that would take the twins down the side of the building to the 40th floor windows of Yakavetta's suite. Connor had worked it out so that the moment they arrived at the windows, Romeo would come through the door of the suite. Then the twins would swing down with rope securing them to the scaffold and shoot in the glass windows in order to make their 'grand entrance'. The idea had Connor grinning so happily that Murphy just didn't have it in him to complain too much about it. Anyway, ultimately they'd kill Yakavetta's and any of his men present once they were inside.

And after every scumbag was dead, pennied and prayed over, the twins and Romeo would leave via the service entrance the same way they'd come in. Romeo would drive them away since by that point the cop trio were expected to be gone.

Murphy sighed presently, eyebrows raised in exasperation as he thought over the entire plan. He was sitting at the bar in McGinty's, it was almost 9 PM and they intended to get to Yakavetta in the next hour. There were two single shots set out for himself and Connor on the bar top along with their weapons duffel bags. Connor was standing beside Murphy, he had just pulled his leather gloves on to add the final touch to his usual execution gear and he and Murphy were now both prepared to head out.

They glanced at each other and then they looked at Doc, who was watching them from behind the bar, looking worried. Murphy glanced at Connor again when his twin patted his back firmly, the hand sliding up so that the cold leather of the glove was pressed to the back of Murphy's neck for a few –seemingly platonic- seconds.

But their emotional connection was steady and strong with love and trust and confidence in and for one another, so whatever it appeared as on the outside, it didn't matter.

Connor's hand lifted from Murphy's neck as he sat on the stool beside Murphy and he fingered the shot glass, Murphy looked at him and picked his own shot glass up. The twins saluted one another with their shots and then they knocked them back, drinking them down quickly and savoring the taste. They placed the glasses down at the same time and Doc looked from one to the other,

"W-w-will yeh' boys…b-be, alright?" he asked with a frown.

Connor smiled at him, calm and sure,

"Aye, Doc, don't yeh' worry about us."

Murphy nodded, standing up when Connor did after glancing at the wall clock behind the bar and seeing the time,

"We'll be fine, we'll see yeh' later fer' a cold one."

Doc nodded, doing with his face what was probably a smile…or a grimace, it could have been either.

Murphy grabbed the duffel bag just when the sound of the bar door opening was heard and Romeo walked in wearing the Pru's uniform, gesturing with a tip of his head for them to follow.

After a final nod to Doc, the twins left the bar.

* * *

* * *

I can see that I lose the joys of life,  
One at a time…

* * *

Connor's fucking plans.

Murphy was really going to have to start picking which of this twin's plans sounded sensible and which ones were just plain fucking stupid. Like the one presently being carried out, it was just plain fucking stupid.

And dangerous as shit.

They were suspended about 46 floors above Boston's streets on a scaffold being operated by two idiots –Greenly and Duffy- who had no fucking idea how to work said scaffold. They were tying Connor's rope around them so that when they reached the 43rd floor, as per Connor's on the spot decision, they would swing down like badass'.

The flying fucking Saints.

The plan had been awful from the get go, Murphy had known, but he'd still –as usual- let Connor talk him into this retarded over the top shit and now, with nothing below them but a free fall to their deaths and the wind up that high being quite strong, Murphy was really not feeling this plan at all.

In fact he was pissed off.

Not only had Romeo looked extremely skittish in the elevator on the way up, but Greenly and Duffy had also looked skittish when he and Connor had arrived on the roof. So everyone was feeling anxious and unsettled and Murphy could tell that Connor had noticed, but they had to try and keep it together.

Jesus Christ, Murphy had known they'd need help to pull off this bogus plan but he was now kind of wishing they'd just done the job themselves.

"Murphy, secure the fuckin' rope!" Connor yelled over the sound of the wind, tugging at the rope tied to Murphy's waist. Murphy clenched his jaw and glared at Connor,

"Et's fuckin' secure!"

"Are yeh' sure, cause' et's a long fuckin' way down." Connor pointed out.

Murphy narrowed his eyes at his twin and he grabbed Connor's rope, tugging on it just to be annoying and Connor looked at him with a frown,

"I fuckin' know et's a long way down, but I wouldn't have had te' worry about falling te' my fuckin' death if I hadn't agreed te' this retarded fuckin' plan!" he yelled, angry now that Connor would have the nerve to point out the obvious danger of the plan he'd put them in.

Greenly and Duffy exchanged worried glances as the twins glared at each other,

"The plan, eh?!" Connor tilted his head as he tugged his rope out of Murphy's hand.

"Aye, the retarded plan!" Murphy emphasized,

"Yeh've always got a problem with my fuckin' plans!"

"Because they're fuckin' schupid!" Murphy said honestly as he felt Duffy checking the rope around his waist, because Murphy had probably not convinced them he'd done it properly.

"Et's creative!" Connor insisted, that was what Duffy had called it and Murphy shot said cop a withering look, "Et' happened te' be a creative plan!"

"Fuckin' ridiculous!" Murphy snapped back and then something occurred to him when he saw how Connor was shaking his head stubbornly and was avoiding looking him in the eye, "Et's fuckin' based on some schupid shit yeh' saw in a movie!" he confirmed without needing to ask, because he just knew it.

It was so **Connor** to do something based on a movie!

Coming to that realization only pissed him off more and Connor's lack of response just proved that Murphy had guessed right. Duffy had finished guaranteeing that Murphy was properly tied up in rope and that fact just worried at his last nerve,

"And here I am **again** , all tying myself up with fuckin' **rope**!" Murphy just had to go there and when Connor still didn't looked at him he pressed the issue, poking at Connor's shoulder, "What's the deal with you an' the fuckin' rope, honestly?!" he truly wanted to know, because it was infuriating him right then.

Connor snapped back at him now, pushing at his chest and holding a finger there, but not roughly because they were high up and they couldn't get into a physical fight,

"Et' happens to be a very useful thing, so shut et'!" he insisted and Murphy looked at him like he was insane, literally growling because he was so mad at Connor.

"You didn't get this from a movie, did ya'?" Duffy, who had checked and double checked Murphy's rope, asked over Murphy's shoulder and said twin gave Connor a look that dared him to deny the truth.

Connor looked at Murphy, face twitching in frustration as he glanced to Duffy – even Greenly was listening now- and then Connor looked back to Murphy and when he cracked, Murphy felt satisfied,

"The 'Eiger Sanction' with Clint Eastwood!" Connor yelled with conviction, completely ignoring Greenly's loud curse at the admission, "An' et' worked like a charm fer' him!"

"God!" Murphy had known it, "I fuckin' **knew**!" he yelled at his twin and then looked away from him, frustrated and stressed and wondering what the fuck else could go wrong.

A minute later as they were estimating the length of the rope they'd need for the drop, the fucking scaffold jammed up on the wrong floor…and Murphy wanted to strangle Connor.

* * *

Suicides are revealed  
You will see that I lost another life

But tonight…

* * *

 But Murphy trusted Connor with his life and if their lives were ever going to be in danger, it would be together, as with everything else they did.

So without hesitation and just a ball park estimate of the distance to jump, all tied up and harnessed, wielding their knives because they'd have to cut themselves loose before they hit the glass windows, Murphy followed Connor over the side of the scaffold, leaping into the open air side by side, hands out at their sides.

It had been crazy, scary and amazing.

Cutting the rope at the last minute, shooting through the glass, sliding across the floor, firing their guns and taking out Yakavetta's men had been as 'grand' as was possible.

Murphy had felt the Desert Eagles' power coursing through his arms, numbing heat burning his muscles with every shot he let off. He felt in that moment like they were the personification of being Executioners for God.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Connor had been right.

 **Badass**.

It had been a hundred times better than any execution they'd ever carried out.

Just as it always should be, at Connor's side, his brother, his twin, his lover...Murphy's unexpected soul mate.

And then there'd been little Yaka', stricken, waiting, shaking, angry and afraid with nowhere to run as the twins grabbed him and dragged him, shoved him down to his knees in the middle of the carnage where they brought their rosaries out from inside their shirts, set their new guns to the back of Yakavetta's head and begun to pray, Romeo standing by quietly, respectfully silent.

Unlike Papa Joe, little Yaka' didn't call for help and he didn't plead, all he did was say his final words muttered in Italian in a shaken voice before the brothers said theirs – click click, Et Spiritus Sancti.

Presently Murphy was crouching down at a body, folding the dead man's arms over his chest before placing pennies over his eyes. He glanced over as Connor stood up when Romeo came over to him and asked if he could help. Connor looked to Murphy, a silent question of whether they should let him bless the souls they'd just saved.

Murphy looked at Romeo, thinking of the fact that the Mexican was truly one of them, he believed strongly in God and strongly in their purpose.

He looked at Connor after a few seconds and his twin already knew Murphy's answer, they both nodded to one another at the same time and then Connor handed some of the pennies he carried on his person over to Romeo, who took them carefully, nodded and then set about the task.

One body in particular gave them a moment of pause where they all tried not to laugh. Connor had called Murphy and Romeo over to see one of the bodies lying face down on the floor…with two eyes tattooed on the back of his bald head. It was agreed upon without much more than a look, and Connor went ahead and placed pennies over the tattooed eyes.

It was hilarious. They all laughed after it was done.

There were seventeen bodies in total and with Romeo's help, they finished quicker.

By the time they were done, Murphy felt his adrenalin slipping away, satisfied exhaustion settling in along with a pleasant burn in his muscles. He was ready to leave with Connor and Romeo who were heading toward the door…when Murphy saw the strange steel box that was a literal eyesore where it stood erect in the hotel suite.

"Ey, Connor…" he said just audibly as he approached the box, looking up at the screen mounted beside what appeared to be a door. Murphy remembered Yakavetta had been cowering against the steel box when they'd come over and dragged him to the center of the room.

"What is et'?" Connor asked as he and Romeo walked over and stood either side of Murphy, "What's this then?"

Murphy smirked and glanced at Connor, cocking an eyebrow,

"I think et's some sort of a panic room." He answered.

Connor nodded,

"Aye, et' looks like et'." He agreed.

"You think there's anyone inside?" Romeo asked, glancing from the twins to the box.

Murphy looked at Connor and his twin returned the look, to double check whether either of them remembered seeing the door open or closed when they'd busted in, but neither of them were sure about it.

Connor shrugged,

"Probably, Yakavetta was at this door…" he pointed out, tipping his head, "…seemed he was stuck on the outside though, which means…"

"…that someone beat him to et', got into his little safe box before he did." Murphy finished, glancing at his twin.

"Aye." Connor affirmed.

"Good thing, huh, or we wouldn't have been able to take him out." Romeo pointed out.

Connor shrugged and smirked as he looked to the small button panel erected near the panic room. Connor stepped up to it and he pressed the talk button,

"There's always next time, we would have gone after Yakavetta and any of his scumbags again if we didn't get them this time." He said casually, smiling as he leaned closer to the controls where a small receiver was built in, "D'yeh' hear me, we'll get yeh' next time, boyo. We'll get yeh'…" He threatened in a pleasant tone.

Murphy smirked and Romeo just nodded, all serious, before Connor let the button up and glanced up at the blank screen, he sniffed and then patted Murphy's stomach,

"Let's go." He walked toward the door and Murphy followed him, Romeo following as well.

* * *

* * *

One at a time, I watch them all forget  
One at a time, I'm lost in little deaths.  
It's the place that I, I forget my life.  
Like tonight…

* * *

Murphy and Connor had been back at McGinty's for ten minutes presently following the execution.

Romeo had dropped them off before telling them he was going to stay with his uncle for the night.

And then when they'd gotten in Doc had been on his way out to evening mass causing Murphy to feel a little remiss when he considered how many church masses he and Connor had missed over the years in Ireland, and even now when they were back in Boston since they couldn't just go to church freely.

But it was a consequence of the life they'd chosen to live and he'd long since accepted it.

They'd told Doc they were fine when he'd asked, looking over them with his bespectacled eyes as if checking for blood or injury and after he found none and they told him to stop fussing, they bid him a good service and sent him on his way. Doc locked up behind himself since the twins had been given a spare key, and they'd headed upstairs to the speakeasy.

They'd since taken off their coats, their gloves and their holsters and presently Murphy pulled his turtleneck up over his head, tossing it onto one of the two small bunks in the room, before he picked up the dark gray long sleeve shirt he'd been wearing that afternoon from where he'd tossed it on the bunk.

He was just about to pull the shirt on over his head when Connor's warm, rough hands were felt firmly stroking his mid-back, over his sides and then around to his stomach, sliding down until Connor's nimble, long fingers were unfastening Murphy's belt. Murphy lowered his arms, letting the shirt slip off,

"Connor?" he asked quietly, closing his eyes to the sensation of Connor pressing slightly wet kisses to the back of his neck and his bare shoulders.

His belt fell open and he felt Connor smile against his ear after he pressed a kiss there,

"We're completely alone, Murph." He said huskily as he popped the buttons on Murphy's jeans, tracing the shell of Murphy's ear with his tongue as his hand slipped down beneath the waistband of Murphy's boxer shorts, taking into hand Murphy's already stiffening sex.

Murphy's entire body was already heating up, shocks of arousal hardening his cock by the second as he felt Connor's breath against his ear, his skin, his twin's lips kissing and licking lightly, teasingly at his ear and neck as his hand gently fondled him so that Murphy could feel himself slowly filling Connor's hand with his erection. Connor's other hand was on his hip, sliding underneath Murphy's boxers as well in teasing caresses.

Murphy licked his lower lip in between his quiet uneven pleasured breaths and he opened his eyes, glancing around the room and trying to figure out if it'd be taking a risk. He knew the window to the fire escape was locked from when they'd left earlier and the glass was wall papered to prevent anyone from seeing in or out.

"I locked the door…relax." Connor answered, probably sensing what was making Murphy hesitate.

Murphy turned around when Connor's hands left his body, giving in without any protest, he cupped and squeezed Connor's erection through his twin's jeans as he watched Connor pull his turtleneck off, his rosary falling lightly against his defined torso as he tossed the shirt onto the bunk behind Murphy.

Connor leaned in at the same time as Murphy and they kissed, mouths open, tongues eager, breathing quickened, no preamble, no time to waste, Murphy wanted to fuck and he knew Connor wanted to as well, aside from his twin's cock throbbing beneath his jeans, the sexual intent was coming across their connection like wild fire, setting Murphy's skin alight with heat and pleasure.

Murphy grasped a handful of Connor's hair as he tilted his head to accommodate the roughness of Connor's kiss, Connor's hand slipped between their bodies and he opened the buttons on his own jeans before he took Murphy's hand and directed it into the front of his underwear.

Murphy did as directed, it wasn't as if he even needed to be directed, but if Connor wanted Murphy's hand on his cock right that minute, then Murphy had no complaint. He took Connor's thick sex into his firm grip, sliding his palm and fingers along the length of the heated flesh as much as he could at the awkward, stunted angle, all the while letting Connor have at his mouth.

It felt like one of those times when Connor would be completely dominant and there would be no give, Murphy would be taking it…and Murphy fucking loved it. His insides were all twisted up with butterflies and heat and anticipation, his cock was fully hard and aching as Connor's other hand stroked him lightly through his unfastened jeans and boxers.

He wondered if Connor was all revved up because of how dangerous what they'd done that night had been, that was, jumping off a scaffolding more than forty floors off the ground at the risk of falling to their deaths. Connor always got like this when they did something risky…whenever Murphy's life was put at risk. It made Murphy arch into his twin and moan quietly into Connor's mouth to think of how much Connor loved him.

By the time Connor drew back from the kiss, Murphy was a little dazed and he licked his swollen lips, both of his hands found Connor's skin, almost absently he caressed Connor's chest as he started to kiss Connor's neck,

"Do yeh' want me to suck yeh'?" Murphy offered with a hot exhale against Connor's skin when his twin leaned his head to the side to give Murphy room to kiss and lick.

He knew Connor always enjoyed getting head before he fucked Murphy and Murphy was more than willing, his body thrummed –as it usually did- with sexual anticipation even at the idea. He was already kissing his way down Connor's body, sitting down on the bunk behind him as he tugged Connor's jeans and underwear lower on his lean waist. Connor made a noise of frustration above him and Murphy paused, his lips pressed to the hair trailing beneath Connor's navel,

"What is et'?" he asked in a low voice when he sensed his twin's frustration.

Connor's hands ran through Murphy's hair as he looked down at him and then he shook his head,

"We don't have time, mass is only an hour…an' I want te' fuck yeh' proper before Doc gets back." Connor informed him with a raised eyebrow, his hands cupping Murphy's face and tilting his head back.

Murphy mentally agreed, mass was only an hour and the church was a five minute drive away, so Doc would be back soon, but he could see Connor was working through indecision, he obviously wanted Murphy's mouth and wasn't sure if they could spare the time. Murphy sighed, pushing Connor's hands away from his face as he leaned in and kissed Connor's lower stomach, leaving Connor to make up his mind as Murphy extracted his twin's cock from inside his underwear and wrapped his hand around it.

He stroked Connor slowly, hearing his twin moan low in his throat through closed lips, and Murphy smirked as he slowly worked Connor's erection, pulling up tight and stroking back loosely, keeping the head of Connor's cock close to his lips as he breathed.

"Fuck, Murph…" Connor breathed out huskily, watching him and Murphy licked at the corner of his lips as he stroked the full –well endowed- length of his twin, from base to tip,

"What, Conn?"

Connor sighed and gripped a light hold of Murphy's hair,

"Go ahead, then." He said gruffly and Murphy mock frowned as he ran his other hand up the inside of Connor's thigh,

"But I thought yeh' sai-…"

"Christ, Murphy, just suck et'…" he said in a somewhat demanding tone that made Murphy's cock throb and he forgot to question the instruction. Murphy just closed his eyes as he moved his hand away, instead dragging his open mouth and tongue from the base of Connor's cock upward until he reached the head and then he swallowed Connor down as much as he could, which was never completely, no matter how much they practiced.

Connor moaned loudly and Murphy exhaled heavily, shivering at the feeling of Connor's cock throbbing in his mouth. He'd truly grown to enjoy the feeling, and he'd never said it, but he knew Connor was aware of how much Murphy enjoyed giving him a blowjob.

Murphy sucked earnestly as Connor messed up his hair with both of his kneading hands. Murphy chose not to hold back since they had limited time and once he'd sucked Connor until his cock was wet with spit and achingly hard, he drew off and pushed Connor backward from where he stood between Murphy's legs so that said twin could stand up.

"Where's the lube?" Murphy asked as he stepped toward the pool table, holding his jeans up on his waist. Connor's mouth was still hanging open as he breathed heavily, getting his faculties back as quickly as he could before he went over to their clothing bags and he dug into the side compartment of one of them, holding his jeans and underwear up from falling just as Murphy had.

Murphy watched as his twin came toward him with a sachet of the lube, which Connor had bought a few nights ago and when Connor stepped up to him again, they kissed immediately and roughly, Connor attacking Murphy's mouth with teeth and tongue and teasing licks that made Murphy huff out breaths of frustration.

"Murph…" Connor breathed out before he used his mouth to rip the sachet open and Murphy left a few wet kisses along Connor's jaw and a few nail imprints in the skin of his side before he turned around for his twin, pushed his underwear and jeans down and bent over the table, forearms rested on the felt and his rosary coiling up against the flat surface where it hung from his neck.

Connor's fingers were wet and cold with the lube as he slipped two into Murphy with relative ease, because Murphy was horny and eager as fuck and he wanted Connor's fingers, he wanted Connor's cock and he relaxed himself as much as he physically could in order to take it, resting his weight on the table to take the strain off his legs since they'd be shaking soon.

Murphy worried his lip with his tongue in between stuttered breathing as Connor hurriedly stretched him out with twisting fingers, his free hand rubbing firmly over Murphy's naked back and side.

When Connor's fingers left his body, Murphy felt the blunt head of Connor's cock press against him and then inward and he spread his legs as much as he could with his jeans caught at his knees, pushing backwards against the pressure so that Connor slid into him easier, slick with lube and his sex so stiff and hot, Connor's cock stretched him and filled him in one smooth thrust.

Murphy's teeth clenched as he moaned and pressed his forehead against the green felt, a wave of arousal rushing through him once Connor was fully sheathed and he pressed kisses to Murphy's spine a few times.

When Connor started fucking into him precisely, Murphy tried not to moan like a slut at the onslaught of pleasure assaulting his loins and weakening his legs, and he mostly succeeded, although he was only better at moaning quietly than not at all. Murphy supported himself with one arm on the table after the first few magnificent thrusts and then he grabbed his cock with his other hand, masturbating himself mostly in time with Connor's thrusts as he breathed and moaned against the table, his eyes screwed shut. Connor wasn't supporting his lower half, Murphy didn't feel Connor's hands anywhere on him and when he opened his eyes and glanced down and to one side he could see Connor's hand gripping the ledge of the table.

Murphy closed his eyes again and fisted his one hand on the table as he jerked himself off quickly and steadily with the other, feeling his orgasm building rapidly as Connor properly fucked him, just as promised.

"Fuck…Connor…" Murphy breathed out, squeezing the base of his cock tightly to delay himself from coming when the pleasure of Connor's thick sex firmly stroking over his prostate felt too fucking incredible to be over just yet.

Connor was grunting, moaning very quietly as he always did during sex and he wasn't thrusting all the way in either, just short of, in order to keep their skin from slapping together obscenely. That specific type of thrusting put a lot more pressure on Murphy's prostrate with every downward in-out and it wasn't long, ten minutes tops, before Murphy eased up the grip on his cock and his eyes rolled shut as he let out a long, quiet, broken moan, coming over and into his hand as he covered the head of his sex to prevent too much of a mess.

Murphy's legs were shaking, his body vibrating with the pleasure of his orgasm as he rested his upper body more heavily on the pool table, worrying his lips with his teeth and tongue as he rode out his climax. Connor had stopped moving when Murphy came, Murphy knew it was because Connor hadn't wanted to come in that moment.

He started moving again only once Murphy's orgasm has passed, fucking into Murphy's sensitive rectum in shallow erratic thrusts, and Murphy swallowed several moans, breathing out soft 'ahs' at the continued stimulation of his prostrate for a few more minutes before his body erupted in a deep inner pleasant warmth that meant Connor was finally coming, he'd reached his orgasm and his thrusts stuttered into Murphy's ass, a bit deeper and with a bit more force than before.

Connor breathed Murphy's name out a few times, raspily, between huffs and hitches as he orgasmed.

Murphy had propped himself back up on his one forearm, keeping his other messed hand where it was, and when Connor finally pressed his cock firmly into him, Murphy moaned out a sound of satisfied appreciation before clenching his rectum around Connor. The action made said twin's hips jerk forward just once more, drawing a soft moan from Connor, who had his sweaty forehead rested between Murphy's shoulders and his hands still clutching the table.

When their breathing had calmed Connor hesitated to pull out and Murphy looked over his shoulder at him,

"What?" he asked quietly.

Connor sniffed, looking gorgeous, ruffled and sated as he smiled impishly,

"Didn't really think this through…" he mumbled.

"What?" Murphy repeated, not immediately understanding what the problem was.

Connor rolled his eyes,

"The come, Murph…et's gonna end up in yer' clothes." Connor hung his head and sighed.

Murphy sighed after Connor clarified and he shook his head,

"We should've used a condom, woulda' saved us the trouble." He mumbled, speaking absently, not even really all that serious. But Connor apparently didn't like hearing that and when he smacked Murphy's thigh, said twin was genuinely shocked and he looked back at Connor with a glare,

"…the fuck?" he hissed as his thigh stung.

Connor pointed a finger at him,

"Just shut et'…I have an idea." Connor told him, not explaining himself and despite being upset over the burn on his thigh, Murphy once again trusted in Connor and he just nodded.

He also couldn't help thinking, yet again, that it would be nice if they could be together freely…without having to always worry about something.

* * *

Will the flood behind me,  
Put out the fire inside me…

* * *

Murphy and Connor had cleaned themselves up once they'd followed through on Connor's idea, which left them both going commando. They'd redressed themselves, pulled on their matching gray long sleeve shirts and then they'd left the speakeasy to air out for a good thirty minutes before Doc returned to the bar, at which time the twins were both downstairs. They'd been waiting for Doc to return as they sat at the bar, drinking Monster energy drinks, which Connor didn't like as much as Murphy did, and they'd been taking their guns apart to clean them.

Doc was talkative when he first got back, he told them about the service and they had the first religious conversation they'd had in years with the old man and eventually the conversation topic changed. Doc started telling them about how things had been for him and the local Irish community over the last few years. He told them about what had changed in the neighborhood, what had stayed the same, some people they knew who had passed and others who had married or had kids.

Murphy and Connor smoked and nursed their drinks as they listened and talked, cleaning their guns with familiar efficiency intermittently, having taken the Desert Eagles apart right after they'd received them in order to get the hang of the weapons, they were already used to them.

They told Doc some stories of their time in Ireland, the sheep farming and how bored they'd been, Doc related some of his old tales of Ireland from many, many years ago, some from before the twin's had even been born.

Doc eventually busied himself with fussing and tiding the bar as he spoke, giving Connor and Murphy fresh Monster drinks without them even asking as he took away their almost empty cans.

It had probably been about two or so hours that they'd just sat talking, their conversation and laughter when Connor started making fun of Doc's Tourette's again, distracting them from cleaning their guns, making the process take a while longer.

Eventually they wound down, having relived memories and spent enough time feeling nostalgic they settled down again. Doc was polishing the silverware, sitting in the back of the bar since the place was fully lit. Murphy had just finished cleaning his first gun and he clipped the final part into place after finishing his cigarette. He picked up a loose part of his second gun, which he'd dismantled earlier and set about cleaning it.

Connor was only just taking his second gun apart, wiping it down first as they glanced at one another briefly.

Just a glance was enough to know that both of them were okay, a bit sad about the years of their lives wasted in Ireland, but never the less happy and well and they were there now, in Boston, and while they hadn't talked about what came after they executed the priest killer, Panza, Murphy knew Connor shared his desire for more, in their overall lives and especially between them intimately.

They'd figure out a way to be Saints and Sinners. Executioners of God and Brothers in Love.

Murphy glanced up when he heard the door of the bar open, he knew it couldn't be a customer since the bar would still be closed for another two days, so when Greenly walked in, all grins and jokes, Murphy and Connor just greeted him with smiles because they'd expected the cop trio would probably come to see them when they finally got off working through the Saints' carnage at the Pru.

Murphy was just about to comment on Greenly's opening statement of 'sac-o-matic I said' when his heart was forced into overdrive by the sound first –a resounding bang- and then the sight of Greenly getting shot, more than one hole pushing through his body, ripping flesh, blood and clothing fabric from him as his smile was wiped off his face in a split second and he dropped forwards.

Murphy's survival instincts were instantaneous, he was up and over the bar in a second after a quick shove/grab at Connor's shoulder and said twin held onto his not yet fully dismantled Desert Eagle, clutched securely in his hand as he followed Murphy over and behind the bar. Murphy's mind whirled and his heart raced with what had just happened, he tried to process it over the loudness of his breathing and the shots that rang out following the first, aimed at where they'd been sitting seconds ago and glass and alcohol was shattering and spraying down on the twins from the bar display wall.

It all happened in a matter of seconds and Murphy said the words as soon as he realized he was unarmed,

"I got nothing!"

Connor pointed out Doc's shotgun that was hidden under the bar and Murphy snapped his focus back into the chaos, grabbing the shotgun as Connor clipped his gun back into working order and they looked at one another,

"One in the hole." Connor said, so he only had a single bullet.

Connor's steady blue eyes held his own and grounded Murphy, kept him from thinking about the fact that Greenly had just been shot and would probably die. Right then he couldn't focus on the pain of losing a friend seeping into his chest, right then he needed a clear head and Connor's clear blue eyes were his anchor and Connor was his strength. Connor.

Murphy looked at his twin again after he quickly checked the shotgun to see if it was loaded and at the same time several single shots were fired into the bottles and wood above them, Connor yelling a curse at the bastard they had yet to identify. And then Connor counted them down before they'd get up from behind the bar and take whatever aim they could at the fucker shooting at them. Murphy listened to his twin's steady voice, one…two…three…

Murphy turned around as he jumped up, shotgun at the ready the same as Connor was aiming his Desert Eagle-

"Boys, boys!" Doc's voice, distressed.

Murphy's blood boiled as he stared down the barrel of the aimed shotgun at the couch where Doc had been sitting in the back of the bar, now restrained and held at the knife point of none other than the tiny little fucker that was Otillio Panza. Murphy recognized him from the photo Eunice had showed them.

First the bastard shot Greenly and now he was threatening Doc…

Jesus Christ Almighty, Murphy wanted to fucking **crucify** him in the most agonizing and torturous sense.

Connor was just as tense and furious beside him, his breathing heavy.

"Put em' down." Tiny fucking Panza instructed, his firearm aimed at the twins as he restrained Doc with the knife.

And he was so small, so insufficient that Murphy continued to glare threateningly, he knew he'd be able to swat Panza like a fly if the man had tried to restrain him, but Doc was in his late seventies and even a tiny little Italian fucker would be dangerous to a defenseless old man.

"Throw them over." Panza tried again and Murphy knew Connor wasn't taking the little piece of shit seriously either, they both kept their weapons aimed.

It was when Panza turned his gun on Doc that Murphy's breath stuck in his lungs, his body flooded with anger, adrenalin and worry for Doc's life.

"I'll kill the old man, throw them over!" Panza yelled now, he sounded stressed, nervous, barely able to see over Doc's shoulder but he was still armed and dangerous. Still Murphy wanted to shoot him, one shot…but with a shotgun Doc would get hit too, the weapon was not made for precise targeting.

Murphy noticed Connor lowering his weapon, his hand patting Murphy's shoulder lightly, wordlessly instructing him to do the same. Murphy clenched his jaw, his body was taut with anger and vengeance and he didn't take his threatening glare off of Panza even as he threw the shot gun over the bar as instructed, followed by Connor dropping the Desert Eagle.

How Connor remained so calm and level headed, Murphy would never know. He only knew one thing and swore it to himself, that when he got his hands on Panza, he'd kill him with his fists, painful and bloody, he'd beat the little prick to death.

"Brothers, huh?" Panza breathed out, creepy fucker was rubbing his face against Doc who just remained still, "Oh, we gonna have us some fun." He was smiling.

Murphy and Connor were **not** smiling.

"So which one first, huh?" Panza asked and Murphy frowned, not sure who he was talking to, "Which one you love more, huh?" he moved his gun pointedly to Connor as he spoke and Murphy's hands twitched as his heart skipped a beat.

Panza was asking because he was going to shoot one of them, he was asking Doc which one, because he was going to **shoot one of them**.

Murphy's heart started to race all over again as he panicked, trying to think of a way to save Connor's life.

"This one-…" Panza started to ask and Murphy prepared to launch himself at his twin if Panza took a shot…but someone else fired a shot and Panza cried out as his gun fell from his wounded hand.

Murphy's head snapped in the direction the shot came from and out of the bar's unlit men's toilet room walked none other than Noah. Murphy sensed relief from Connor, but he felt none himself, some gratitude maybe, but after so many years of living with the man, always being in Murphy's private space, Murphy could have done without seeing him again for a far longer time.

All the same, Noah was there now and Panza had let go of Doc after being shot in the hand. Doc, by Connor's gesture had moved far away from Panza as quickly as he could, making his way to another corner of the bar. Murphy took a moment to enjoy the sound of Panza's pained cries, that was until he heard Greenly cough and he swung his head to the doors where Greenly lay, coughing up blood, eyes still open as he looked around in a pained daze.

Murphy blinked out of his returning pained stupor as he jumped over the bar, followed immediately by Connor. Murphy would for once trust that Noah would take care of their enemy while they tended to their fallen friend.

He and Connor settled either side of Greenly where he lay bleeding and twitching on the floor, and Murphy felt his chest ache then and he breathed out,

"Jesus Christ…" as he knelt beside Greenly, like he had when Rocco lay bleeding on the floor so many years ago, dying while there was nothing he could do about it, helpless to save a friend's life.

A friend whose only crime was knowing and helping the Saints.

'Christ…not again.' Murphy thought, absently hearing as Connor yelled for Doc to call an ambulance.

Murphy's mind screamed that that was a bad idea, they were wanted men and with ambulance called for someone being shot, the police would come too, especially if the scene of the shooting was McGinty's. But he couldn't bring himself to say no to it, because Greenly was dying and Murphy expected Connor felt the same way.

Murphy vaguely heard talking coming from behind them but he was focused on Greenly, he held the man's face and supported his head off the hard ground as Greenly sputtered and struggled to breathe. Connor was beside Murphy, holding Greenly's shoulder.

"Just hold on, man…" Murphy said uselessly because he could do nothing else.

"Help's on the way, hang in there." Connor said louder than Murphy was speaking, both of them dealt with loss and grief differently and Murphy could feel it in their connection.

Connor's calm was fraying, he was starting to lose his control, his clear mindedness, whereas Murphy knew that soon he would feel his own calm slowly set in, steady and cold, anger and the need for blood vengeance would taint his vision red. Because that's how it had always happened.

When Murphy broke down, Connor stepped up and vice versa.

But right then, it hadn't happened yet and all Murphy felt was the ache in his chest.

Greenly coughed, convulsed and did his best to focus on looking at the twins as they hovered over him, he took a labored breath and struggled to get the words out,

"Boys…it's over…" he strained out and Murphy wanted to scream, unable to resist the need to cry as his eyes watered, because he was reminded of Rocco's dying words, also spoken in broken, labored breaths and Greenly was hurting and dying, "…it's okay…" and it wasn't okay, "…proudest day of my life." Greenly said around a mouthful of blood, looking right at Murphy when he said it and Murphy swallowed a sob, clenching his jaw.

Murphy watched…as he'd done with Rocco, as Greenly's eyes lost focus, as he tried to swallow and choked on blood and then slowly, slowly…he was gone, he went limp, he stopped breathing, his eyes slid shut…and Murphy just stared at him.

Red started to bleed into his vision, but Connor's hand on his back made him blink and look at his twin and Connor's eyes spoke volumes, but the feelings coming across their connection still said more. Connor was freaking out and Murphy felt an abundance of various affectionate feelings all directed at himself. As if Greenly dying somehow made Connor feel relief and gratefulness that Murphy was alive.

It only made Murphy look away from his twin and cry more, quietly and sadly, because deep down inside he felt exactly the same way, so grateful that Connor was still alive, it almost rendered him unable to breathe when his own feelings mixed with Connor's.

But as he swallowed down a tight lump in his throat, still staring down at Greenly, Connor shouted,

"Da!"

Murphy looked up, a frown crossing his face when he saw Panza and Noah holding guns aimed at one another.

His first thought was 'what the actual fuck?' because he had no idea how Noah allowed that little prick to get a gun trained on him. But then Noah said 'easy boys' as if to calm his and Connor's inevitable reaction to the threat on his life, as if he wasn't concerned, and Murphy recognized Noah's choice of gun then and it hit him…

…the old bastard was playing Russian Roulette, as if it was a fucking game to risk his life when Greenly had just **died**.

Murphy felt annoyance rise in his gut and the feeling of his ire came quickly after.

Panza cocked the revolver he held aimed at Noah's head and Murphy felt Connor's anxiety shoot through the roof just before the little Italian pulled the trigger to an empty chamber. Connor panicked,

"Jesus fucking Christ!" he yelled and Murphy saw his eyes glaze over for a second before Connor grabbed the shotgun. Murphy quickly followed, scrambling for the nearest gun he could find on the floor…

…because in the end, Connor loved Noah, he'd grown to love their father whereas Murphy had just about grown to tolerate him. So despite how Murphy felt, he couldn't bear to feel or to see Connor grieve the stupid old bastard if he died and since he was the more level headed one by that point, after losing someone he'd cared about, Murphy had to stay close to Connor to ground his twin.

Connor was up and had the shotgun aimed at Panza's face before Murphy was even properly on his feet and he quickly rushed over with the Desert Eagle he'd picked up, coming to stand beside Connor, who was all kinds of pissed off by then, all control gone,

"I'm gonna blow this motherfucker's brains out!" he yelled, right on top of Panza, towering over him.

" **Connor**!" Noah bellowed in a gruff voice, silencing Connor as said twin looked at the old man with wide eyes.

Murphy glared from Panza to Naoh as the old man looked at Connor calmly, his gun aimed at Panza never wavering,

"Son…" he said softer now and Murphy had always loathed that word, it made his skin crawl, especially when it was directed at Connor, "…daddy's working." Noah uttered, quietly and seriously.

Murphy could have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, if it hadn't been for the second spike in Connor's panic he probably would have, but Connor was freaking out and confused by Noah's words,

"What the fuck yeh' talking about?" he breathed out, looking from Panza to Noah with watery eyes.

Murphy waited for an answer as Connor held the shotgun steady, not listening or backing down, but Noah didn't have an answer apparently because he looked at Murphy, who met his eyes with a narrowed glare before Noah made a definitive head gesture. It was only the second time Noah and Murphy had ever had a silent understanding, and Murphy knew instantly that Noah was asking him to get Connor to back off.

Because Noah knew that Connor cared too much whereas Murphy cared only just so, he knew that Murphy would back off but Connor wouldn't want to…and he knew that the only person Connor would listen to, was **Murphy**.

Murphy felt smug somewhere in all the chaos of his emotions, because Noah knew his fucking place. Murphy looked at Connor, considering whether he should take the risk of getting Connor to back off because if Noah ended up dead in this game, Connor would blame himself, or even Murphy.

But Noah, the bastard, didn't give Murphy much time to think, he cocked his revolver and asked Panza a question, signaling that it was his turn in the game of chance and Murphy clenched his jaw when he saw that Connor was not taking his hateful gaze or the aimed shotgun off of Panza.

It was then that Murphy took one hand off the Desert Eagle and slipped it under Connor's arm, grabbing the front of his shoulder and when Connor glanced at him –while Panza and Noah stared each other down- Murphy leveled with his twin, telling him wordlessly to ease off, sending reassurance via their connection that Noah knew what he was doing and to let him be.

Connor's eyes snapped back to Panza after he'd blinked himself away from Murphy's gaze and then Connor leaned in, pressing the shotgun harder into Panza's face,

"No matter how this turns out…" Connor whispered threateningly, "…you fuckin' die today."

Murphy felt Connor's strong concern for Noah, so as he shifted his hand and pulled Connor back by his shoulder, Murphy backed up Connor's words to reassure his twin,

"Believe et', motherfucker." He threatened Panza and then backed up with Connor, their guns still aimed.

"Where is the old man?" Noah repeated his question to Panza.

Panza took a long while to answer, but the second he said 'no', Noah pulled the trigger of his revolver.

Another empty chamber.

Murphy followed suit when Connor dropped down on his knees to pray for Noah.

That time their prayers were different, but both intended for loved ones.

Panza kept repeating 'make me famous' in Italian as he worked up to his next shot but when he pulled the trigger, the chamber was empty and Connor and Murphy raised their weapons.

Noah pulled back the hammer on his revolver slowly and Panza was starting to look a little pale,

"Where?" he asked simply.

Murphy might have admired their Da's raw guts to play such a foolish game of chance, but he didn't, because the old man was fucking selfish and he'd be intentionally hurting Connor by losing his life so pathetically. Still, Murphy watched and listened to the exchange between Noah and Panza, intrigued, while Connor was just stressed beside him.

Panza was grinding his teeth by now, making stressed noises and probably wondering whether he should take the chance that he'd get lucky again, and Noah yelled his question again abruptly, so Panza chanced it,

"FUCK YOU!" he yelled at Noah.

Noah pulled the trigger.

Click. Bang.

Panza dropped dead. The game was over.

And when Murphy felt the strain and fear from Connor across the connection immediately melt away, he felt his own stress and fear do the same.

In the end, Murphy was unsure whether he was relieved that Noah hadn't died, or if he was just relieved because Noah hadn't died and left Connor with the pain of such a loss.

It didn't matter though, because **Connor** was **alright**.

* * *

…I'll let you tear it up,  
I'll let you break it up,  
If you don't wake me up.


	11. Chapter Ten

 

* * *

Perhaps this calling is the channel of invention  
I will not blush if others see it as a crime…

* * *

They'd cleared out of Doc's immediately after grabbing their meager belongings from upstairs in the speakeasy and they'd legged it out of there, slipping straight into the dark alleys of Boston as the distant sounds of police sirens and ambulances rushed to McGinty's.

Doc knew the story he'd tell the police, he'd say that Connor and Murphy had shown up there, he hadn't expected them and that Greenly followed shortly after, Doc would ' _assume'_ that Greenly came by to ask some questions about the Saints and then Panza showed up, to kill the Saints, not expecting there to be a cop present. The Italian shot Greenly and the Saints shot Panza.

It was a shaky story, but since the police were just dying to get their hands on an actual sighting of the Saints, Connor and Murphy hoped that they wouldn't question the story too much and would rather just get back to the hunt.

The twins and Noah had been forced to take Cesar up on his offer to use his house as a fall back hideout, so that was where they headed on foot. It was a long walk through back streets and dirty alleys and Noah coughed fairly often as they made their way. Connor wouldn't have thought much of it, but it had been too consistent. He'd shared a glance with Murphy as they'd walked and his twin had just shaken his head. Either he didn't know…or he didn't care.

Connor had been too tired to puzzle it out.

When they arrived at Cesar's the man welcomed them in and they were grateful to him, they thanked him and apologized for what had happened at his bar, before introducing him to Noah. Romeo had a hundred questions about what had happened. Connor's words of 'Greenly and Panza are dead' had been explanation enough for the time being and Romeo had just nodded and kept quiet.

Connor kept glancing at Murphy, he was behaving similarly to how he had after Rocco had died, he was quiet and the tension in their connection was blatant and aggressive. Connor hoped that some sleep would make Murphy feel better, because they weren't going to get a chance to talk while they were in Cesar's house, not with Romeo and Noah so close.

* * *

However dangerous the road, however distant  
These things won't compromise the will of the design…

* * *

Later, when the twins lied down to sleep on the sofas that Cesar offered them, they'd had their first identical, shared dream since their epiphany about their calling to God nine years ago. But the dream had been about Rocco, it'd felt so real and Rocco had looked so real and talked so real…and Connor had been struck with wonder and fear by the end of it, after he and Murphy had woken together at the same time, of whether it had been real in some other worldly way.

** **

Had Rocco come to talk to them through their dream? To comfort them about Greenly, their other losses and their choices and their lives and their decisions…to remind them that they were men…and help them work out what direction they should go in from there? That's what it felt like, and Greenly had been there too, God rest his soul, he'd been another voice of encouragement.

Presently, as Connor sat thinking about it in Cesar's backyard on a wire garden chair in the late evening, he doubted it had been real, just like their dream of their calling probably hadn't. He'd never let Murphy know, but he'd been telling himself that it wasn't real for a long time now, because if he truly believed that his own, Murphy's and their joined dreams were real in any way, then that would mean the dream he'd had nine years ago about him and Murphy ending up in prison and Murphy **dying** was real.

And Connor couldn't accept that idea, Christ, he could hardly even think about it.

And anyway, there was a problem with picking and choosing which dreams to believe were real or premonitory, because it would either mean that the dream of his and Murphy's about their calling to God had either been real, and so it was plausible to assume their other significant dreams were real too. Or it meant that their dreams were all just dreams, in which case, their calling was something they'd manifested based on their religious desires and their trauma over the Russians nearly murdering them…and that would mean he and Murphy were just **murderers**.

Connor sighed at the headache inducing thoughts. He'd been unable to go back to sleep after dreaming about Rocco and Greenly, and Murphy had been right there beside him in the dream and right beside him a couch over, in reality. Murphy had looked just as thrown off by the dream, so they'd both stayed awake, it had been the crack of dawn at the time and Noah had been up as well, or maybe he hadn't slept, but he'd been waiting to talk to them.

Connor had told Noah the previous night that they'd talk in the morning, because Murphy had been in the wrong frame of mind immediately after losing Greenly. And so Noah had waited until exactly when they woke up that morning to talk. Cesar had been awake too and he'd made them some coffee and closed them into the privacy of his dining room.

** **

At the time, Murphy's still tense and unpleasant feelings riddling their emotional and intimate link, which had been driving Connor crazy with stress and guilt, had only gotten _worse_ after they'd sat down with Noah and the old man had told them the story about his days as a hit man. Murphy had been listening intently as Noah spoke and Connor had hopefully wondered whether, now that Noah had told them the whole story about his checkered past and the reasons he never turned in the man who betrayed him, being because of the birth of his sons, of Connor and Murphy, it would change the way Murphy felt about Noah. But Murphy had only asked one question during the entire story Noah told and that was it and once Noah had explained about not turning Louie in because of the threat to his infant sons, Murphy hadn't even looked at Noah again.

He'd just stared at the table.

Connor had gone on to ask Louie's full name from their Da, and then he'd told Noah about Eunice possibly being able to run a check on the name and maybe they'd find the man that Noah was talking about. Connor also told Noah about Eunice's connection to Paul Smecker. Noah had never liked Smecker but he didn't seem to have a problem with Eunice Bloom.

It wasn't hard to guess why.

Connor knew that Murphy had also definitely figured it down to their father being a homophobe because that's more or less when the ever present aggressive tension in their connection steadily began to worsen. Connor supposed he understood why it upset Murphy, hell, it upset him too, and it wasn't because they were sinners due to their incestuous relationship as brothers, it was about the fact that had they been gay, just gay, without the incest, Noah probably would have condemned them, disowned them, not wanted to be a part of their lives.

It wasn't certain he would, but it was more than likely what would have happened.

And it was a detail that was hard to swallow and even harder to ignore.

Connor sighed again, quietly to himself as he sat low in the garden chair, one leg bent up, that ankle rested on his other knee as he smoked a cigarette in the cold air with only the crickets to keep him company. He had his coat on against the chill and every breath he exhaled was fluffy and white even when he wasn't exhaling smoke.

It was quiet in the house. Cesar had a wife, but she was away visiting family and at that moment Cesar was at the restaurant/bar that he owned and he would be there until sometime after midnight. Romeo was with him, helping out to pay his uncle back for the damage they'd done to the bar. Connor was grateful to Romeo for picking up his and Murphy's slack where that was concerned, but it also made sense to stay out of it, since it was a family thing between uncle and nephew and they'd worked it out that way.

Cesar had left with Romeo an hour earlier and Connor had been the only one awake at the time. Earlier on, once they'd all eaten breakfast, Romeo had showed the twins where the bathroom was located, letting them take turns showering and cleaning up. Noah hadn't needed to, the man had apparently come to McGinty's straight from a motel and he hadn't gotten a speck of blood or dust on him. Whereas Connor and Murphy had been under a shower of glass and alcohol when Panza had been firing at them behind the bar, they'd also been sweating from panic and they'd had blood on them from Greenly.

So they'd taken quick showers, one after the other and pulled on fresh dark blue jeans and each one of their long sleeve charcoal color pullover shirts, dressing similarly as usual. They'd never strayed from blue jeans and gray, black or brown shirts.

They hadn't had a chance to talk all day after that, because Romeo had been in their company listening to the full story of what had taken place after he'd dropped them off at the bar the night before. And now, presently, when they did have a chance, he and Murphy couldn't talk either, because Murphy was asleep on the couch, having opted to try sleeping again when it got to be about noon and he'd started to feel really beat.

Connor wasn't tired, not in the sense where he needed to sleep, so he'd encouraged Murphy to take a nap.

Noah had also gone to sleep at some point earlier, but he'd been offered the spare bedroom to rest in since Romeo wasn't using it, so he was upstairs, maybe not even sleeping, Connor didn't know for sure. All the years of living with Noah, Connor had learned that the man could spend all day in a room by himself, doing God only knew what.

Connor sat now considering just waking Murphy up, he'd had a good five hours of sleep so far, surely that was enough. He took a drag on his cigarette, lookng to the backdoor of the house and trying to decide if he should wake his twin or not. And he was still staring at the door, smoke filtering from his nose, when it was pulled open and Murphy stepped out, regarding Connor with a –just woken up- frown.

At the gorgeous sight of his ruffled, still sleepy twin, Connor took in a silent breath –of lingering smoke- and he coughed, muffling it with his free hand quickly in case Noah was asleep, since he'd rather the man not wake up right then.

"Conn?" Murphy half whispered, squinting into the dark since Connor hadn't switched the backyard light on and he was sitting in the dark,

"Aye…Murph." Connor managed to stop coughing and he whispered back, standing up as Murphy quietly closed the backdoor, glancing around the dark yard as he made his way over.

When Murphy finally came near enough to him, Connor tipped his head, gesturing for Murphy to follow him and his twin did without question, around to the side of the house where there was a narrow space, with a clutter of stuff that Connor knew were garden appliances and apparatuses, some plants, an old bicycle and some other shit, only because he'd checked it out earlier when the sun had still been up.

But presently it was nearly pitch dark at the side of the house, with only the cloudy dark sky and it's barely visible moon to cast any light over them, the resulting shadows blacking out most of their clothes and coats and making their skin look pale and gray. Murphy followed Connor down to the center area of the long narrow path and there they leaned side by side against the wall, effectively out of view for the most part, unless someone actively came looking for them.

Murphy was rubbing his face sleepily as Connor pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit it against his own before handing it to Murphy, who took it with a grateful nod. They smoked in silence for a few minutes, Connor finishing his cigarette before Murphy did and he started up a quiet conversation in an almost whisper,

"You okay?" he had to ask because of Greenly.

"Aye…you?" Murphy answered and asked, exhaling smoke afterward.

Connor nodded,

"I am…" he sniffed, "…I called Doc's burner phone te' check on him, he's fine."

Murphy nodded, looking relieved,

"S'good." He mumbled, the cigarette hanging from between his lips as he rubbed his hands together against the cold.

Connor was relieved that Murphy was okay, having always been the emotional twin, Connor would have expected Murphy to have taken the loss a lot harder. But then, Greenly hadn't been their closest friend, unlike Rocco and also, they'd changed a lot in the last seven years in Ireland, so their emotional reactions to things would be different.

Considering that issue closed, Connor moved on to the next thing on his mind,

"What do yeh' think about the dream?" he practically mumbled, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets and glancing at Murphy who was almost done smoking. Murphy's eyebrow hiked up and he licked his lips absently, smiling slightly,

"I think et' was fuckin' weird." He admitted and then he frowned and tilted his head to look at Connor, "I think et' might have been your dream, Conn, I was just in et'." He said quite seriously.

Connor didn't even know how to begin making sense of that and he turned to face his twin, leaning against the wall with his shoulder so he could look at Murphy properly,

"The fuck does that mean, how can I just bring yeh' into my dream?" he frowned.

Murphy turned to face Connor, leaning in the same way against the wall,

"I don't remember all of et', et's blurry in parts an' whenever we dreamed the same thing, I always remembered the entire thing." He explained quietly and Connor listened, heart pounding in his chest as he absorbed what Murphy was saying, "I think I only saw pieces of et' because-…"

"-…of our…" they started to say together and then stared at each other, having never mentioned their emotional and mental link before.

"Aye." Murphy said softly, glancing off to the side as he took a final drag on his cigarette.

Connor forced himself to ask,

"Has…has et' ever happened before?"

Murphy licked his lips again, exhaling smoke through his nose as he dropped his filter on the ground and crushed it under foot,

"A few times." He said quietly.

Connor raised his eyebrows, interested in hearing more,

"Oh…" he tipped his head when Murphy just stared at him, "…tell me about them." He said with a hand gesture.

Murphy blinked slowly and sighed, he appeared to be thinking as he slipped his hands into his pockets,

"Once, when we were…" he shrugged, "…we were fifteen, about. Yeh' had that dream where you and I were beating the shit out of that big kid, the one who always used te' call us bible thumpers."

Connor nodded slowly, blinking and pursing his lips briefly,

"Aye, Collin Mulholland." He reminded and Murphy smirked when it rang a bell,

"Collin…aye." He repeated quietly.

"Was that just me?" Connor mumbled.

Murphy shrugged,

"I never really cared what that arsehole called us, never really wanted to beat him up fer' et' either."

Connor snorted and then raised his eyebrows,

"Any others?"

Murphy frowned thoughtfully,

"There were a few, but I don't remember all of them…" he said but then he bobbed his eyebrows and licked his lower lip, smirking when something came to him, "…but there was one interesting one, et' happened when we lived in New York," he leaned in closer, whispering, "but that was a sex dream and I used te' have a couple of those me'self." He smiled and Connor couldn't help smiling too.

They stood in silence then, Murphy staring up at the starless sky and Connor staring at him, adoring him silently. In the back of his mind his fears were building and he glanced away from Murphy to ask,

"Didn't we end up beating the shit out of Collin Mulholland?" this question was spoken quietly.

Murphy blinked and opened his eyes refocused on Connor, he nodded slowly,

"Aye, the following year…he called us our mother's bastards and yeh' lost et'."

"I lost et'? Yeh' weren't angry about that?" Connor asked disbelievingly.

Murphy shrugged,

"I was pissed off, aye, but you were fuckin' furious. Yeh' broke his fuckin' nose, remember?" Murphy smirked.

Connor smiled nonchalantly, bringing out his pack of cigarettes and his Zippo,

"He never did address us quite so impolitely ever again, did he?" he said amused.

Murphy huffed out a laugh, looking up at the sky again, equally amused,

"I don't remember him even lookin' at us funny after that."

Connor kept smiling as he lit up two cigarettes, handing one to Murphy as he re-pocketed the items and glanced up at the second floor of the house, the bathroom window was the only one up there, the room beyond in darkness. They were leaning against the side of the house where the garage was, and its small windows were just above their heads and also in darkness.

The temperature was dropping, Connor sighed out smoke and white mist.

"Connor…" Murphy was the one who started the conversation this time, cigarette suspended for his lips for a second as his cheeks hollowed on an inhale and then he removed it and clenched his jaw once as Connor regarded him patiently, "…do yeh' think Noah deserves our help with killing this Louie fella?"

The first thing Connor noticed was the tension in their connection reasserting itself, he'd known it was a long shot to hope the gap had been bridged, Murphy wouldn't start loving their father just because he went to jail and kept his mouth shut for decades in order to protect them. No, Connor knew that Murphy probably looked at it more along the lines of Noah having had the choice to not become a hit man in the first place.

Connor sort of agreed, after the first kill, after Noah had avenged his father's murder, he should have stopped. But he hadn't and he'd become a hired gun in a way, he just hadn't known it. But if Connor couldn't bring himself to believe that Noah was so naïve, then how could Murphy, who was not nearly as endeared to their father as Connor was.

Connor sighed out a large puff of smoke as he pressed his back to the wall again and propped a leg up, boot flat against the wall,

"I think we should, if we help him kill Louie he'll have his closure, Murph," Connor reasoned, "I mean, fer' fucks sake, the man put him away fer' life, a man he trusted. He'll be at peace once Louie is dead…" he glanced at Murphy to find his twin looked unimpressed, so Connor pushed off the wall and stepped closer, "…he'll go back te' Ireland when it's over, Murphy."

Murphy inhaled slowly, looking straight into Connor's eyes as smoke from his cigarette floated up between them,

"I have a bad feeling…" Murphy said quietly, his expression hardening, "…et's not our grudge, Connor. Everything that's happened, Father McKinney's death, Panza killing Greenly…et's all a side effect of this Louie guy wanting Noah dead." He absently flicked ash off his cigarette before taking a long drag on it.

Connor shook his head,

"That's not true, Yakavetta hired Louie and Louie sent Panza…" he trailed off when Murphy narrowed his eyes at him,  
"Weren't yeh' listening? Louie's only interest was getting Da te' show himself, Connor. He **used** Yakavetta's grudge against us te' bring us out into the open, intending fer' that little rat prick Panza te' kill us because doing **that** would bring Noah out." Murphy looked disgusted, "Because Louie knew Noah well, he knew the death of a priest wouldn't move Noah to show himself, because Noah isn't the same kind of men that we are, he _never_ has been." He said firmly but quietly. "Et' probably wasn't even Yakavetta's idea te' kill a priest, he's a fuckin' Catholic himself, he was probably just desperate fer' a way to draw us out and so he gave Louie Carte Blanch."

Connor absorbed everything Murphy was telling him with a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the nicotine he was smoking. Murphy was angry all over again, Connor swore that even after so many years there was no love lost between Noah and Murphy, or if there was, it wasn't very much at all.

And Murphy _was_ making sense. In a really twisted way, if it hadn't been Louie seeking revenge on Noah, none of this would have happened, because Louie would never have sought to draw the 'Saints' out of hiding, he only did so because he must have learned that Noah was out of prison.

Jesus fucking Christ.

What a mess.

Impressively, Murphy had come to that conclusion and yet he hadn't even been awake when Eunice had called Romeo's phone and filled Connor in on what Greenly had been coming to tell them the night before. About the explanation the man who'd been hiding in the panic room had provided with regards to Yakavetta hiring 'The Roman' or rather Louie, according to Noah. So Murphy was more right than he knew. Connor had taken that opportunity to tell Eunice Louie's full name, as given by Noah, and she had said she would get back to him as soon as she had something.

Connor knew he needed to tell Murphy about that conversation soon, but not right then when said twin was glaring at the shadowed wooden fence opposite where they stood as he smoked and worried his lower lip with his tongue, looking ghostly pale in the washed-out night atmosphere. Connor blinked and sighed and looked tiredly at the glowing cherry of his cigarette, trying to figure out what to do next. Despite everything Murphy said and everything Eunice had told him, Connor just didn't feel right about leaving Noah to go after Louie, who was mafia protected, by himself. It would be a suicide mission.

"Murphy…" Connor said quietly and he watched his twin swallow, his adam's apple shifting beneath the pale skin of his throat, -which Connor had a necessarily repressed desire to mark. Maybe one day.

Murphy's eyes closed and his expression turned _knowing_ even before he looked at Connor,

"Aye…we'll help him." He acquiesced without having to be asked, because Connor knew that Murphy understood how Connor felt, they were that close, that synchronized.

Murphy turned his head away, about to bring his cigarette to his lips but Connor stepped into his twin's –non platonic- space and he raised his cigarette hand to cradle the side of Murphy's face and turn his head so their eyes could meet, their faces close, too close for brothers in such an open space but neither pulled away,

"When et's over, when Louie's done…we'll go our separate ways from Noah," he said Noah instead of Da specifically and he meant every word, "we'll buy a fuckin' car an' go cross country driving," he grinned when Murphy's lips parted in a smile, "we'll go on a 'Saints' tour and we'll let the papers tell the world our greatest hits."

He'd already been speaking low, but he dropped another decibel as he brushed his lips against Murphy's, "And maybe, somewhere along the way, we'll just fuckin' disappear, like we never existed," Murphy eyes slid closed and he kissed Connor's bottom lip sensually, both of them swallowing audibly as their emotions, happiness and hope, flooded their connection, "an' we'll start over Murphy, somewhere private that we can fuck and fight and love each othe-…" Murphy cut him off, turning into him as he dropped his cigarette filter and he pressed Connor back against the wall, arms encircling Connor's neck as Murphy covered his mouth with a heated kiss.

It was risky and stupid to be kissing at the side of Romeo's house, they were partially concealed but it wouldn't be impossible for someone to see them if anyone was looking, if Noah was looking for them. But Murphy didn't seem to care and Connor threw caution to the wind as he surrendered his mouth to his twin, letting Murphy kiss the breath from his lungs as his heart raced and his body thrummed with heat and love.

Several minutes passed as they kissed, mouths opening and closing as their tongues crossed into each other's mouths together and in turns, the length of Murphy's body pressed flush against Connor's and Connor had dropped his cigarette as well, so that he could clutch at Murphy's smooth warm skin beneath the layers of his coat and shirt, which had garnered a shiver from Murphy at first because his hands had been cold.

Murphy was disarraying Connor's hair with one hand, as he pressed blunt nails into the side of Connor's face with his other and Connor focused on every sensation, scent and taste.

He committed to memory the texture of Murphy's skin beneath his wandering hands, the littering of goosepimples over Murphy's sides when Connor caressed lightly, the bumps of Murphy's spine, the sensitive, firm risen nub of Murphy's nipple between the pads of Connor's fingers, the soft scatter of hair on Murphy's chest and below his navel. Then there were the scents of cigarette smoke, soap, shampoo -and faint alcohol still laced into Murphy's coat-, familiar, comforting, almost signature smells that embedded themselves in Connor's senses, triggering arousal and love and desire at any given time when in Murphy's proximity.

And best of all was the feeling of Murphy's lips, soft and smooth and slick as they moved against Connor's, the taste of Murphy, always bitter with an underlying flavor that was Murphy's own. It was not prominent through the ever present taste of cigarettes, but it was _always_ there never the less, as a pleasant after taste, mixing intoxicatingly with the scent of Murphy and the feel of his skin, his hair, his breath ghosting into Connor's mouth, across Connor's face or his skin.

"I love you, Murphy…" Connor pulled Murphy against him tightly as he drew off from the kiss to speak against Murphy's parted lips, "…I swear et' te' God, te' the Devil, te' whatever the fuck is out there, I fuckin' **swear** that I love yeh' an' I will until I take my last fuckin' breath." Connor grinned, "En Nomine Patris Et Fili, Et Spriritus-…" Murphy pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him.

"Stop blaspheming yeh' schupid fuck…" he scolded breathlessly, Connor knew Murphy was aware that he had Murphy's rosary clasped in hand beneath his shirt as he'd been saying those words. Murphy exhaled shakily and pressed his forehead to Connor's, "…I love yeh', too." He said quietly, his voice hitching with emotion as he slowly slid his hand away, up along the side of Connor's face, through the side of his hair until Murphy had his forearm propped against the wall, his head hung.

"I hate this…" he mumbled.

"What?" Connor asked confused.

Murphy pressed his hips forward as he raised his head,

"I'm hard as fuck…an' we can't even…" he exhaled in frustration before pushing himself off the wall and backing away from Connor until his back was against the wooden fence opposite.

Connor's front felt cold now with Murphy's warmth gone, and he watched empathetically as Murphy slid down the fence slowly until he sitting on the ground with his legs stretched out in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets and his head pressed back against the fence as he looked up at Connor.

Connor was about to say something when his front jeans pocket vibrated, he blinked as Murphy frowned at him, the dull sound audible in the silence,

"The fuck is that?" he asked quietly, raising an eyebrow.

Connor extracted the cell phone from his pocket,

"Et's Romeo's phone, he left et' with me in case Eunice tries te' call again." He explained as he clicked a side button and the screen lit up, revealing an obnoxious wallpaper of a woman in a tiny little Mexican themed bikini, it made Connor cringe at the tastelessness of it every time he saw it.

"Again?" Murphy asked.

Connor nodded,

"Aye, I'll tell yeh' about that later…" he brushed the question off, not wanting to sour the mood again, especially once he looked at what the buzzing had been for. Connor snorted and started laughing quietly,

"What is et'?" Murphy asked with a frown.

"He set an alarm on his phone…te' watch Gossip Girl." He snickered.

Murphy's frowned deepened, he looked baffled,

"The fuck is that?"

Connor shrugged, sniffing after a few more laughs and shaking his head as he pocketed the phone again,

"I don't fuckin' know, maybe et's a soap opera."

"Fuckin' Romeo." Murphy said with a fond intonation despite looking annoyed.

Connor nodded at what Murphy said and then sighed at his own still present erection, he didn't doubt Murphy was having the same problem, having trouble getting the aching need to subside.

Connor meant it that as soon as they'd concluded Noah's business with Louie, he and Murphy were going to go dark for a while, maybe forever. He decided to reinstate his idea to his twin so he crossed the narrow space and sat down beside Murphy on the cold concrete, hands in his pockets just as Murphy had his.

Murphy glanced at him and Connor smiled at his own personal thoughts, making his twin nudge him with his elbow,  
"The fuck are yeh' smiling about?" he asked quietly, eyebrow hiked up.

Connor licked his lips and made sure his voice was only just audible to Murphy,

"I mean it, Murph, as soon's we're done with this Louie shit, just you and me, we'll take a…sabbatical…"

Murphy lips twitched into a smile, one eye narrowing,

"Sabbatical." He dead panned.

Connor nodded very seriously, his expression somewhere between amused and conspirational,

"Aye…a leave of absence, if yeh' will…" he spoke in a more playful tone, raising an eyebrow as Murphy leaned his head back against the fence again, keeping his head angled toward Connor,

"An' what, pray tell, will we be doin' on this _sabbatical_?" Murphy played along, adopting Connor's thoughtful, playful tone.

Connor raised his eyebrows and tipped his body to the side a bit so some of his weight was leaned against Murphy's shoulder and he was able to speak close to his twin's ear,

"Well, I know what I plan te' do the second I get yeh' alone an' naked." he whispered.

Murphy turned his face away, glancing around in absent paranoia,

"What's that?" he asked softly before turning to look back at Connor.

"I'm goin' te' do that thing with my tongue that yeh' like so much." He said plainly.

Murphy frowned, his expression going between surprise and confusion,

"Could yeh' be more specific?" he asked, his voice not as even as he'd probably been trying for.

Connor smirked slyly, leaning a bit closer so his breath would ghost over Murphy's neck,

"Remember when we stayed in that hotel after we made port?"

Murphy nodded after a pause and a slow swallow, glancing around again and the light coloring that crept into his washed out complexion told Connor that it was likely Murphy would not soon forget it. As cruel as it was to get both of them all worked up again, Connor did it anyway,

"I remember the noises yeh' made, Murphy, the sight of yeh', the taste of yeh', when I used my tongue in…" he craned his neck, pressing his lips to Murphy's ear as he reminded his twin in a sultry whisper exactly where he'd used his tongue on Murphy's body that night.

Murphy's body tensed briefly, the tendons in his neck standing slightly, sexily, as he pressed his head back into the wooden fence and clenched his jaw, making a low frustrated noise as his skin tone got a shade darker under the white washed night sky lighting,

"Shut the fuck up, Connor." He growled quietly.

Connor just grinned, turning to sit on his side as he kept his lips against Murphy's ear,

"Te' see yeh' like that, et' made me so fuckin' hard, Murph, and next time I'm going to go deeper…" he began and then slipped into the whisper again, testing his twin's reaction as Connor said some rather vulgar things, dirty and sexual and he felt Murphy jump slightly when he snuck his hand between Murphy's legs, rubbing and squeezing firmly at Murphy's stiff cock trapped in the confines of his jeans.

Murphy groaned very quietly in his throat, his hand lightly holding Connor's wrist as said twin rubbed that same hand over his crotch. Connor flicked and licked his tongue into Murphy's ear slowly as a demonstration of how he'd use his tongue on his twin's delicate asshole when the time came, right before he husked out a promise that involved a thorough tongue fucking.

Murphy was breathing heavily and his eyebrows drew together in frustration and arousal,

"Jesus fucking Christ…would yeh' kiss yer' Ma with that mouth?" Murphy pressed Connor's hand to his cock more firmly, moving it up and down.

Connor's own erection was hurting in his jeans, but he was enjoying himself far too much to care,

"No, but I kiss my brother with et'." He answered, being a total smart ass and he chuckled darkly when Murphy huffed out an incredulous laugh, swallowing a moan right after when Connor tongued at his ear again and then started to kiss his neck.

The moment was heated, the sexual atmosphere was stifling and Connor was entirely certain that with a few more squeezes, strokes and dirty words, Murphy would come inside his jeans.

But he never got to find out.

The faint sound of the door opening in the backyard, down the narrow walk away, around the corner and a fair distance away, had Murphy blanching, shoving Connor off and scrambling to his feet and across the space to lean against the other wall faster than Connor had even thought possible.

The door could be heard closing after a beat of silence, and then the area at the end of the walkway was suddenly more illuminated and Murphy cursed soundlessly.

Connor was as painfully hard as his twin…okay, so maybe Murphy was worse off, but Connor couldn't bring himself to feel bad, the entire moment had been fucking hot, if only they'd not been interrupted…

Silently they remained on opposite sides of the narrow space, Connor lit two more cigarettes and they smoked until their respective hard-ons had subsided before they left the shadowed cover at the side of the house and walked back to the porch.

Noah, no surprise there, was sitting on the chair Connor had been in earlier, visible because he'd switched on the porch light and he was smoking a cigar, watching them approach from the shadows.

Connor stopped on the porch to ask how Noah was doing but Murphy walked straight inside without a word.

Needless to say, Murphy's mood only soured further after that, leaving behind a constant dull buzzing at the base of Connor's skull encouraging him to get this thing with Louie over and done.

The sooner it was over, the better Murphy would feel…and then so would Connor.

* * *

* * *

Ten thousand demons hammer down with every footstep  
Ten thousand angels rush the wind against my back…

* * *

Eunice called just after 7 AM the next morning, Connor, who had been the only one still asleep, was woken by the buzzing in his jeans and he fumbled with the phone as he sat up on the couch, answering groggily.

Her tone was urgent and a little shaken as she told him that she needed to meet up with them within the hour, she rattled off the street and the alley she'd be waiting in before she'd paused and then sighed, _come prepared_ she'd said, _you'll have to move very quickly_.

Then she'd hung up and all at once there was a weight of apprehension in Connor's gut, because her tone, her demeanor, her words…

 _"_ _I have a bad feeling…"_

Murphy's words from the night before made Connor blink out of his stupor and he lowered the phone from his ear, glancing at it to see the obnoxious wall paper before he dropped the phone on the couch beside him and rubbed his hands into his face.

He sat for only a minute trying to quell the doubts and concerns born from Murphy's words and Eunice's, before he stood up and headed out into the backyard where everyone was gathered. Connor looked at Murphy first, his twin's eyes instantly narrowing over the rim of his coffee cup, he probably sensed Connor's discomfort as they leveled with one another, making sure they were still on the same page that morning.

When Murphy subtly nodded and lowered his coffee cup, Connor looked at Romeo, then Cesar and finally Noah, they were all standing, drinking coffee and staring at him. Connor swallowed thickly,

"We've got te' go, now."

* * *

This church of mine may not be recognised by steeple  
But that doesn't mean that I will walk without a God…

* * *

They'd taken 15 minutes to gear up and then they'd left, bidding Cesar thanks and goodbye and his parting words to them were 'May God be with you.'

It wasn't as comforting as Connor would have liked it to be.

Eunice had been waiting for them, she looked as put together as usual but there was tension in her small frame and exhaustion and weariness in her face. She smiled at them, but it was a strained smile.

She was in trouble because she was helping them. It was obvious.

Connor felt for her, so did Murphy and Romeo and even Noah.

She'd gone and done what Smecker had always been careful never to do, she implicated herself in a crime, pulling archive files that she had no authorization to look into, in order to get the information that the 'Saints' needed. Now she would be under warrant for arrest and would have to disappear or she'd be arrested for aiding and abetting, defeating the ends of justice, conspiring to commit murder…Connor imagined the list would be impressive considering she was helping a few of America's most wanted criminals.

But she was a tough cookie, Connor admired her.

In spite of everything she was dealing with, for them, she had a van with cloned plates waiting, driven there by Dolly and parked in the alley an hour before Eunice had even called Connor. And she handed the information about Louie over with a tight smile and some advice.

She warned that they had to hurry because the FBI would see the unauthorized accessed file and flag it and then they'd go after Louie themselves.

Louie, The Roman, was a wanted criminal due to his affiliation to the Italian mafia, a piece of information that Noah had seemed intrigued by. And the fact that Louie's file was randomly found and pulled from the archives with Eunice's access codes and without explanation, was going to throw the FBI into action, with questions and quick arrests.

Connor could just imagine how chuffed the FBI would be if they managed to catch the 'Saints' as well in all the chaos.

 _"_ _I have a bad feeling…"_

Murphy's words kept coming back to him, he couldn't shake them and his twin's mood was still shitty, Murphy hadn't spoken a word to him all morning and it was unsettling Connor something fucking awful.

They hadn't lingered long in the alley –everything since waking had been moving too fast for Connor to have a moment to think- and after they'd received the information from Eunice and loaded up their weapons in the back of the van, they were ready to go.

On the way to Louie's location in York, a city in Maine, which was just over an hour away, Noah told them about Eunice's request to please kill The Roman.

They all nodded, Connor, Murphy and Romeo, they would see it done.

Connor was certain of it and he tried to make eye contact with his twin, to get reassurance from Murphy that he felt the same way…but Murphy avoided meeting Connor's eyes during the entire drive.

* * *

* * *

…playing with fire  
You know you're gonna hurt somebody tonight  
And you're out on the wire  
You know you're playing with fire.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Second to last chapter, it's a bit busy.
> 
> \- I really enjoy writing Connor/Murphy and I'm going to miss writing this. I have ideas for other stories with this pair but the fandom for it has been uninspiring, still, maybe I will feel the need to write something new in the future. Something AU or something that deviates from canon I think. Or if there is ever a Boondock Saints 3, then I'll continue. I hope anyone who did read this enjoyed it.
> 
> \- The epilogue will be posted soon.

* * *

It's such a simple thing, I never feel this way  
I have nightmares, I have dreams of you gone…

* * *

Murphy felt unsettled, he felt anxious, he felt restless, frustrated, horny –thanks to Connor from the night before-, irritable, sickened, tired, annoyed…he felt violent, he felt an ill-restrained anger lurking beneath the surface of his control.

He had wished so many times for Noah to just not be a part of their lives and he'd only been given a reprieve in short instances over the years since Noah had first showed up at Yakavetta's. Murphy had sometimes seriously considered that he might want Noah dead, but ultimately, the man was his father and somewhere deep down inside he felt a dissociated affection toward him. In a sense where he'd be happy for Noah to be in their lives as a distant, living presence that they could call occasionally to talk to, if the urge _ever_ struck. But to never have to see him…that would be ideal.

Because Noah had been nothing but a burden to them as far as Murphy was concerned and he had brought little else other than unnecessary danger and pain to their lives in the past eight years. From the twins first moment of being 'reunited' with their father, the man had been out to assassinate them, hell, he'd shot them both. Then Noah had joined the Saints' cause, a cause that he didn't really even believe in, and they'd spent a year in New York nearly getting killed during almost every ill-advised execution the man led them to. Then they'd retired to Ireland, for peace, for the sake of not risking their lives anymore because Connor had wanted Murphy and himself to be together. But Noah had been there, nearly every day and as time drew on he'd been in their presence more and more, keeping them from being with one another. Even if it hadn't been intentional, Murphy wished Noah had never been there _at all_.

And now, the only reason they'd been provoked to return to Boston was because one of Noah's old enemies had a bone to pick. And two _innocent_ people were dead because of it, the priest and Greenly, and another would be on the run for the rest of her life.

And it _infuriated_ Murphy that they were going to help Noah kill Louie. He was loathe to help the man with this vendetta he had but Connor's fears, Connor's affection for their father…they pulled Murphy in, incited within him the need to do **whatever** Connor needed from and of him.

Such was the love he had for his twin. Unconditional and unending. Absolute.

He only hoped that Connor appreciated it, because Murphy couldn't say _how_ or _why_ , but he just knew that they were not meant to go to that place, wherever Louie was hiding. Murphy had a bad feeling about it, because it was no place for the 'Saints' to be. Yes, Louie was an enemy of the 'Saints', but in this scenario they were not going after him as 'Saints', they were going after him as assistants in their father's revenge.

It wasn't right…and Murphy had **told** Connor he had a bad feeling, and that meant something, because while Murphy didn't dream as vividly as Connor did, -Connor had always been the imaginative twin who was so in tune with world around him- Murphy _felt_ and he _sensed_ and since day one…something about Noah had _felt_ off.

And now that feeling had come back around…

Presently, Murphy was staring absently at one of his guns held in his gloved hands, his thoughts were keeping him distracted. Connor and himself were riding in the back of the black panel van that Eunice had provided for them, they were headed to Maine where Louie was hiding. No one was speaking, Romeo was driving, Noah was sitting shot gun and Connor sat across from Murphy, who found himself unable to look at his twin in the eye.

Murphy just couldn't, not right then, not when he wouldn't be able to level with his twin, when he couldn't offer Connor the reassurance that they were on the same page…because they weren't. Murphy didn't want to be there, even as he sat in that van willingly, he was only there for Connor, to _protect_ Connor.

Murphy hated to think that the bad feeling that sat like a lead weight in his stomach had anything to do with Connor…dying, but he couldn't be sure, he had no way of knowing and Connor's weird dream about Rocco hadn't helped to calm his nerves. Because whether it had been just Connor's subconscious or whether it had actually been Rocco appearing as some sort of dream apparition, seeing Rocco so vividly so soon after Greenly had died just unsettled Murphy even more.

He sighed quietly as he re-holstered his Desert Eagle, wondering how much longer he'd have to sit in the back of that van with his head down trying to avoid the looks that he knew Connor was giving him.

Murphy closed his eyes and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, forcing himself to think of something pleasant…and the night before, where he and Connor had been alone at the side of Cesar's house quickly came to mind. Murphy remembered how good it had felt to be kissing Connor, it always felt good. He thought of the dirty sexual things Connor had said to him, of the naughty promises he'd made…of how he'd touched Murphy over his clothes. Connor had made him crazy with need using only words and that one hand between his legs...Christ.

Murphy might have had to worry about getting an erection if it wasn't for the pang of grief that ran through him suddenly and it made his chest ache when he realized that depending on what happened when they got to their destination in Maine…Murphy might never get to kiss Connor again.

Never kiss him, or hear him laugh, see him smile, smell or taste his skin, run his fingers through Connor's hair…he might never get to be intimate with Connor again, to feel him so close…

Murphy swallowed tensely, about to look up and meet Connor's eyes, to reveal the fears that were plaguing him as the ominous feeling he'd had since hearing Noah's tale of Louie, was now filling his chest and limbs with the same weight that was in his stomach.

It made him feel trapped.

But then Noah's voice broke through his thoughts,

"Pull over here, Romeo."

Murphy raised his head then, his eyes falling on Connor first, but Connor was looking out of the window,

"A church?" Connor enquired with a frown.

"Aye, I think et' would do us all good te' step inside an' pray, find our peace an' talk te' God before we go to see Louie." Noah said, speaking as if his words were sage.

Murphy could have spit, disbelieving that Noah would have the nerve to say those words. He was practically validating Murphy's fears that they were heading to their **deaths** and he glared at the back of Noah's head for a few seconds furiously before Connor, without saying whether he agreed or not, was opening the back doors of the van and getting out.

And Murphy had to follow, because he was bound to Connor by love and trust and loyalty, so he got out of the van without a word, shutting the door behind him at the same time as Romeo and Noah shut their doors after getting out.

Murphy shook his head at the situation as he glanced around the quiet street. The likeliness of them being recognized wasn't high, not all the way out there, but that was under normal circumstances. Now they were about to walk into a _church_ in the village of York at _midday_ , dressed in their trademark 'Saints' outfits, fully armed and _entirely_ conspicuous. It was fucking ridiculous!

Murphy glanced at Connor, who also didn't look impressed with Noah's choices as he placed his sunglasses on his face…not that it would help, since it was overcast and the glasses would only make them seem more obvious. Murphy didn't understand why they were going along with it, but he did likewise with his own sunglasses.

Romeo and Noah also donned their sunglasses.

Murphy tried to calm himself down, looking for a bright side to the idiocy of it all, he told himself that the glasses would at least make it easier to not look Connor in the eye.

They made their way into the small church and Murphy could honestly say that the atmosphere of the church did not make him feel at ease or at peace. He felt the same trapped feeling he'd had in the van, and he felt the same sickening ire rise in his gut when Noah placed himself between him and Connor as they walked up the aisle to the alter.

Once there, all four of them silently prayed and crossed themselves.

It was a quick process and after five minutes, they left the church in silence and made their way back to the van to complete the journey to Louie.

No one removed their sunglasses, there was no point to doing so anyway, because they would be there soon.

* * *

* * *

There is something in you I want today  
So hide the bones away beneath the yellow lines…

* * *

They parked _too close_ to the entrance of the large neglected property that was Louie's 'home' and Murphy had to bite his tongue because he wanted to yell at Noah that he was being fucking careless with their safety, with _Connor's_ safety!

There were no other cars around, there didn't even seem to be another soul around at all, and so the black panel van stood out obviously in the tree lined street, just as they all did as they got out of the van, conspicuous as all hell and practically begging to be ambushed or sniped. Murphy kept his eyes on Connor in between glancing around, looking beyond the entrance of the property to what was visible of a run down but large house at the end of the leaf littered driveway.

Connor and Murphy automatically reached for their weapons, Romeo following a second after, because something felt off. It was too quiet and both twins knew that there had to be other people _somewhere_ , mafia, body guards, hit men...someone. And considering how open the path was to the entrance, it meant they were probably lying in wait just inside the gates.

Waiting for what, Murphy didn't know, but it made his stomach turn anxiously.

He glanced at Connor, who did likewise, but they couldn't see one another's eyes beneath the glasses. Still, their feelings corresponded through their link, not identically, but enough that they both stepped forward to go first, Murphy following as Connor led. Because Connor wanted to go first, to go before Noah as a son should to protect a parent…and Murphy followed because he would protect Connor, as a brother should.

"No, wait, Connor, Murphy…" Noah said, "…I want yeh' boys te' wait here." He finished and the twins stopped walking.

Connor spun around, frowning and Murphy turned slowly, watching passively as his twin stalked up to Noah, stopping a foot short of their father and keeping his voice low as he ground out,

"What?"

Murphy took a few steps closer, just enough to overhear the conversation as Noah responded to Connor calmly, his eyes hidden behind his glasses and his tone even, unreadable,

"He's waitin' fer' me, son…" Murphy grimaced at _that_ word, "…I have questions an' he will answer them before I take the blood that's owed te' me." He explained and Murphy felt Connor's anxiousness peak via their connection. Their father must have noticed the tension in Connor because his demeanor softened significantly, "Connor…" Noah said in a less mechanical tone, trying to sound 'fatherly', "….Murphy." his head turned in Murphy's general direction and said twin narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

Noah inhaled slowly and then nodded,

"Na Naomh." _(Saints)_ He walked away then, taking the path between where Connor stood and where Murphy stood further back, "Tá mé bródúil as a glaoch ar bheirt agaibh mhac." _(I am proud to call both of you son.)_ Noah said just audibly for both of them. Murphy didn't watch Noah go once he'd walked by, he just frowned behind his glasses and looked down at the ground, whereas Connor slowly turned around and watched Noah walk away from them, toward the gates.

"Christ…" Connor muttered, shaking his head and clenching his hand around the handle of his gun, the leather of his glove squeaking just audibly over the light breeze and rustle of leaves around them.

"Is he…uh, does he expect us to just...eh, what the fuck are we gonna do now?" Romeo asked, looking over at Noah's retreating form before glancing between the twins for an answer.

Murphy didn't look at Connor, he kept his eyes on the ground as he once again handed his trust to his twin,

"What do yeh' want te' do, Connor?" he asked evenly.

Romeo looked at Connor now as well, shifting from foot to foot, eyes wide as he held a shot gun loosely in one hand.

Connor took a moment to think, his jaw working and the gears in his head probably turning a mile a minute before he nodded and continued to stare after Noah, who was out of sight by now,

"We'll give him…ten fuckin' minutes te' get his answers, an' then we go in." he said firmly.

Murphy hadn't really expected that Connor would decide to walk away and leave Noah to his fate, so he wasn't let down when Connor did the opposite. Instead he just nodded to the ground and Romeo nodded at Connor.

There was a minute of silence amongst the trio before Connor walked over to stand closer to Murphy, who had just been standing and staring at the ground, waiting quietly, anxious and antsy. Romeo automatically walked closer too, because Connor apparently wanted to say something,

"Somethin's not fuckin' right here, there should be mafia people watchin' over this place." He kept his voice low, "Eunice said that Louie is some important Oracle or some shit te' them, they wouldn't leave him unprotected, so there has to be people here, don't let yer' guards down." He voiced exactly what Murphy had been thinking earlier.

"Aye." Murphy agreed quietly, licking his lips as he craved a cigarette and averting his gaze to the tree line.

The trapped feeling in his chest remained, but there was no turning back now so he pushed it to the back of his mind, steeling himself for whatever was to come. He had to be strong for Connor…

"How're we gonna know where the mafia guys are?" Romeo asked, glancing around at the empty front yard.

Connor shook his head,

"We don't…" he sighed, and Murphy looked at him, seeing Connor's jaw clench in frustration, "…but their ward is Louie…and their main target is Noah." He said the last part somberly, looking at Murphy and subtly nodding his head in what could only have been acknowledgment of _everything_ they'd discussed the night before about this entire mess being Noah's fault.

"So…?" Romeo glanced between them, frowning.

Murphy kept his eyes on Connor even as his twin couldn't see them,  
"So if they're protecting Louie then the majority of the men guarding this place are all going to be concentrated wherever he is." Murphy explained and Connor nodded,

"And there's no way that they've all been told te' focus on Noah as the _only_ threat, but there's a good chance they'll target him more than any of us. **Still** , keep yer' eyes open, stay sharp and _don't_ do anything schupid." He said specifically to Romeo in a threatening tone.

Romeo nodded with a grumpy expression.

Murphy sniffed and cracked his neck absently.

Connor stared at the front yard, tense and alert.

Minutes passed and when Connor deemed the time had come to follow Noah he walked ahead, leading the way,

"Let's go."

They walked quickly and with long strides straight into and across the yard. They had their weapons drawn and their heads were swinging from side to side as they looked around for any threats, but there were _none_ and soon they found themselves entering the neglected house that smelled strongly of moss and tobacco.

Murphy inhaled deeply and without bothering to look at Connor to ask or inform, he took point immediately, walking ahead of his twin further inside…because he would be the one to get shot if someone planned on opening fire on them unexpectedly. He knew Connor couldn't say anything to argue with him because the house was spacious and empty and their voices would carry, but he popped up at Murphy's side stubbornly, refusing to fall in behind Murphy and even through their sunglasses, their scolding glares aimed at one another were prominent.

They couldn't do anything else to convey their irritation with one another, so Murphy just shook his head and continued to try and walk ahead of his twin, Connor right at his side. They walked through a large entrance hall until they arrived at a wooden staircase. Both twins were ready to ascend…and Murphy had nearly missed it, because he'd been focusing on Connor and their surroundings, but when he spotted it, his stomach bottomed out.

Noah had left a sign for them to know which way he'd gone.

Because he'd expected…maybe even **known** that they would follow him, that Connor would follow him.

Noah _expected_ Connor to risk his life.

Murphy kept his expression carefully blank as he patted Connor's chest with the back of his hand to draw his twin's attention to Noah's rosary hanging on the banister of the stairs.

** **

Murphy lifted the wooden accessory off the banister and showed it to Connor, all without looking at him, before he pocketed the rosary and headed up the stairs ahead of Connor, slowly and carefully, always looking for threats.

The dread in the pit of Murphy's stomach was an ice cold weight by then, his skin was crawling because he knew they weren't supposed to be there and his bad feeling was only getting worse by the second.

But they were there, no turning back and there would be no changing the facts…people were going to die that day.

And it would not be in the name of God…no, it would not be by the calling of the Saints.

For that, Murphy knew they would face consequences…

* * *

You're scared of what you lose  
Or what you might gain this time…

* * *

**…the twins let off the first two fatal gun shots…and then it was chaos…**

* * *

I love you more than I should  
I would wrap my heart in bands of rosewood…

* * *

* * *

I love you more than I should  
I would stay beside you here ten million years…

* * *

Murphy disconnected himself from being a 'Saint'. He pushed God to the back of his mind…

…and he killed every man in his sights, every man that came at himself or Connor.

He took aim, he fired and while the chances were that they were all bad men, he had no way of knowing if they all deserved to die. He killed them anyway.

* * *

* * *

You see yourself in the mirror  
You see yourself at night  
You see yourself in the gutter  
You see yourself like a star shining bright…

* * *

When Murphy was shot, only the thought of protecting Connor made him get up again.

But he hadn't been able to spot Connor anywhere at that point.

He started to panic.

But then Murphy saw Noah…lying on the stairs a few feet away, bleeding and shot and familial instincts he hadn't even been aware of toward Noah made him go to the man's side.

Still, his mind was on Connor and he called for his twin once he was at their wounded father's side…because Murphy needed Connor, needed to hear his voice and know that he was still alive.

And Noah was yelling about being taken back up the stairs to Louie and Murphy didn't know what to do.

Where was Connor?

Connor would know.

Connor would know what to do with Noah.

Murphy **needed** Connor.

And then he heard Connor shout his name, loudly and firm and Noah flailed in Murphy's arms, yelling and trying to get up in all the chaos.

But Murphy's panic had instantly eased at the sound of his brother's voice, so he helped Noah up.

Because Connor was alive and that meant Murphy could keep moving forward.

* * *

 

* * *

Noah was dead.

Murphy was surprised that it hurt as much as it did, he was surprised that he cried, he was surprised by the fact that the first time the word 'Da' ever fell from his lips, he'd had to say it to their _dying_ father.

But the surprise passed as quickly as the tears did.

Murphy didn't linger over Noah's body, even as Connor wept quietly on his knees beside their father, Murphy got to his feet with a silent grimace due to the bullet in his lower leg. He nearly lost his footing once he was up but he managed to regain his balance as he looked around the destroyed house.

Murphy could hear his own loud breathing and his heart thudding furiously in his chest, he could feel blood ooze from his wounds –one bullet in his right shoulder, one in his left lower leg- with every heartbeat and he could feel his hands shaking, one still clutching his gun. He didn't know where the other Desert Eagle had fallen and so he slowly balled his empty hand into a tight fist as he looked over the dead bodies littered all around them.

Where was Romeo?

Every person present besides the twins…was dead.

So…Romeo was dead?

Murphy blinked rapidly at the thought and he swallowed tensely as he limped slightly on the spot, his left leg aching in waves of sharp burning pain.

He heard the sound of boots scraping and Murphy turned to look at Connor, his twin was on his feet now and they looked at one another, both breathing heavily, both shaking, both hurting, both shot. Connor's gorgeous blue eyes were watery and Murphy saw an apology reflected in them along with love and sadness.

Murphy took the few painful steps needed to close the gap between himself and Connor, and said twin didn't move as he approached, Connor just kept his watery eyes focused solely on Murphy. In that moment, Murphy failed to care if there was anyone who might see him as he stepped up close, chest to chest with Connor and he kissed his brother's cold lips firmly. Murphy held the side of Connor's neck with a shaking gloved hand…and surrounded by the smell of blood and gun powder and death, Murphy tasted his twin with a deep kiss for what he feared would be the last time.

Because they could both hear the police sirens in the distance, getting louder and nearer and there was only one road out and one road in coming to Louie's dilapidated house, so there would be no getting away that time.

Connor kissed Murphy back, leaning in to it, mouth open and breathing shaken, he also seemed not to care for where they were right then. And the kiss wasn't wanton or sexually inciting, it was slow and affectionate, somewhat morbid, desperate and intense due to the scattered bodies and the blood around them, their recently dead father at their feet and their impending arrests closing in on them with every passing second.

But it was everything Murphy needed in order to face what awaited them...

They both drew back at the same time, after a minute or so and Murphy inhaled deeply while Connor exhaled and they looked at one another, their blue eyes meeting and locking, their minds and feelings syncing up easily.

Once they felt ready they stepped back from one another, each casting one final look around the mess left behind before they started to walk in the direction of the house's exit.

Murphy could hear the sirens ringing loudly now, they were deafening and numerous, mixed in with the harsh sounds of cars screeching to a halt, car doors opening, orders being shouted. And then, as the twins descended the stairs they'd climbed when they'd arrived earlier, the sirens were cut and the announcement that the police were outside and surrounding the property could be heard, loud and clear.

Connor and Murphy would not delay their fate.

Murphy had _known_ it would not end well, he'd told Connor.

This was their fate now.

God's punishment for going against his calling? Punishment for being incestuous?

Perhaps. What did the reason matter in the end?

Being in prison would take away their freedom to be in the world and their freedom to be with one another.

It was definitely a punishment.

And it hurt them both deeply to think of it, Murphy felt Connor's pain and Connor felt Murphy's.

They shared one final look when they reached the entrance hall, the front door.

They both nodded at one another in agreement, accepting what awaited them...because as long as they were together, they would get through it.

Murphy took in a deep breath…and then Connor opened the door and they stepped out.

* * *

* * *

**The 'Saints' dropped their guns.**

* * *

* * *

Murphy woke up to the sounds of shouting, crowds of shouting people by the loudness of it. It was like a distant, steady drone and it made him frown slightly.

Murphy swallowed sorely and his throat felt like sand paper as he did so, making him cough a few times haltingly. Once he'd managed another painful swallow without coughing, he opened his eyes and stared at the dull gray concrete ceiling above him and after a few seconds he became aware of a quiet, steady beeping sound…

…beep…beep…beep…beep…

As his coherency returned and it broke through the medicated fogginess of his mind, Murphy absently noted that it sounded like a heart monitor.

Murphy continued to stare up at the gray unfamiliar ceiling until his mind cleared up completely, allowing him to remember where he was. He remembered then that they'd been transferred the night before from a hospital to the Hoag Maximum Security Prison. They'd been at the hospital for two days after their arrests, cuffed to their beds and under maximum surveillance the entire time, since they'd needed to be treated for their bullet wounds before being taken to prison.

Presently, they were in the in-care medical facility of the prison. Murphy remembered being brought in there the night before, himself and Connor handcuffed and in wheelchairs…while Romeo, unconscious for days, had been rolled in on a gurney.

The heart monitor that Murphy could hear beeping…was hooked up to Romeo, he remembered now.

 _'_ _At least he's alive.'_ Murphy told himself for the millionth time since he'd watched them bring Romeo into the hospital ward on a gurney _hours_ after their arrests. He'd been in surgery and they'd managed to save his life. Thank God.

The twins themselves had been brought into the hospital by at least fifteen tactical force cops armed to the teeth, all of their weapons had been ready to fire, especially when they'd had to remove the handcuffs on Connor and Murphy in order for the doctor to situate them and treat their wounds.

And they'd even had an entire ward temporarily cleared out to keep the 'Saints' away from any civilians.

It had been bizarrely flattering…but also very insulting.

Because the 'Saints' would never hurt innocent and good men, yet everyone seemed so afraid of them.

Afraid because they were _high profile serial killers._

Murphy coughed again when he swallowed, he was only faintly able to feel his wounds because the painkillers were still in his system, but it hurt noticeably enough when his body tensed up, making him grimace. When the ache passed, Murphy focused on the dull drone of people, so many people…he made out the voices of prisoners down below in the yard, but beyond that was a chanting noise and when he listened closely, Murphy could make out the chant of 'set them free'.

****

He would have smiled at the sound of their civilian supporters chanting in the distance, had it not been for the fact that he and Connor were in prison and there was nothing to be happy about. Murphy sighed before he moved to sit up, carelessly using his injured arm to lever himself up, holding the rail at the side of the bed and he grimaced again at the throb of pain it caused.

Connor was getting up too, at the same time as Murphy was and as they always did, they looked at one another.

But that time when their eyes met, there was guilt lurking in Connor's gaze and he averted his eyes after a few short seconds.

****

Murphy stared at his brother for a moment, wishing he could say something, wanting to tell Connor not to blame himself for them being in prison.

They had **all** made the choice to follow Noah into that rat trap and this was the consequence of it.

It wasn't anyone's fault in the end.

But Connor wasn't speaking, wasn't communicating. Murphy had made numerous attempts at conversation in their native tongue while they'd been laid up in their guarded hospital room, before they'd been transferred the night before, but Connor had responded with very few words every time, mostly just brushing off Murphy's attempts to talk.

It was upsetting, so upsetting…but they had more pressing things to concern themselves with.

Murphy blinked himself out of staring at Connor and he avoided looking over at Romeo because it hurt to see the Mexican lying unconscious and hooked up to all those machines. Instead he looked at the single guard posted at the door of their infirmary room.

Their amount of designated guard detail had dropped drastically, it seemed that after the first day of Connor and Murphy behaving calmly and not hurting anyone, threatening, struggling or showing any signs of hostility at the hospital, it sunk in that the twins weren't going to hurt anyone, that they weren't dangerous to civilians or cops.

The hospital staff had actually been less afraid of them than the cops had the entire time.

Now there were no handcuffs on them and only a single guard, and said guard nodded when both twins regarded him, looking from his face to his gun in silent question before the man took his finger off the trigger, signaling that he didn't mind if they got up from their beds.

So, slowly, they did, getting to their feet and standing up. Their bandages were stained red by their still slightly bleeding wounds but neither twin cared as they stood side by side at the barred window between their beds which overlooked the prison yard. Below them were a few hundred loitering _criminals_ and considering it was a maximum security prison, they were probably the worst kinds of men.

The kinds that Connor and Murphy would need to deliver to God.

Some of the prisoners were watching them from below, pointing, threatening, smiling…but Murphy felt no fear, only _adrenalin_ and he sensed the same thing from Connor. The shroud of darkness was quickly lifting from their connection, even if only for a little while as they smirked down at their future execution targets, all lined up for the 'Saints' nice and convenient, might as well have been gift wrapped.

When Murphy raised his right hand in the shape of a gun, pointing it down at the criminals and Connor waved his finger at the men below condescendingly, warningly, the twins were thrilled to see that several of the prisoners expressions changed, some looked angry, some looked wary and several of them looked _afraid_.

It only made Murphy grin smugly and Connor looked pretty chuffed with himself as well.

Murphy raised an eyebrow when the prisoners started to disperse slowly and the chanting of 'set them free' continued in the distant background,

"An gceapann tú go bhfuil an chuid de phlean Dé?" _(Do you think this is part of God's plan?)_ Murphy asked quietly, hoping Connor might feel like talking now.

Connor glanced at him, leaning away from the window with a grimace,

"What?" he half mumbled as he moved to sit down on his bed again.

"Prison." Murphy answered, turning around and moving slowly to sit down as well.

Connor glanced at him again and the unpleasant tension from before eased back into their connection as Connor shook his head,

"Níl mé ag iarraidh a labhairt mar gheall air." _(I don't want to talk about it.)_ Connor mumbled again.

Murphy sighed and glanced at the guard who was watching them with a small frown, clearly not understanding them and wondering if he should intervene. Murphy ignored him and looked back to Connor, who sat stiffly, gripping the edge of his bed and staring at the window,

"Cén fáth nach?" _(Why not?)_ Murphy asked quietly with a frown.

Connor looked at him sharply,

"Stoptar é." _(Shut it.)_ He said snappishly and then looked back to the window, clenching his jaw.

Murphy clenched his jaw as well and narrowed his eyes, exhaling angrily but ultimately keeping his mouth shut, because the guard was watching them and seeing them fight was not something that a random stranger should get to see, especially not a fight of theirs as brothers and not 'Saints'. That was personal.

Plus, fighting would get them handcuffed again.

It hurt that Connor was shutting him out and he knew that Connor would feel that he was hurting, their connection was still in place, no matter how subdued it currently was. Murphy nearly felt for his rosary, but then he remembered that all of their belongings had been taken and they may never see them again.

He shifted to lie down again as weariness seeped into his body, his wounds were aching worse now with the added emotional pain he felt over Connor pointedly ignoring him. Murphy distracted himself with miserable thoughts of him and Connor being sentenced to life soon, a lifetime of not talking maybe…and then he wondered absently about whether they would be sentenced with the _possibility_ of parole in the future. He doubted it, he knew better that whenever they did get a trial it would be cut and dried, because no matter how many people appreciated that they killed evil men, the 'Saints' were still considered dangerous serial killers.

Murphy sighed quietly, staring up at the ceiling again, the background noise of the prison yard, the chanting and Romeo's heart monitor fading away as his thoughts drifted to how things could have been different, if only…

If only they hadn't gone with Noah to kill Louie, then they would still be free men right then and Romeo would not be in a coma, only just hanging on to his life. Panza being dead had necessarily redressed the priest's death and Greenly would still be dead, but at least they'd be able to visit his grave at some point.

Maybe Murphy and Connor would have been sitting with Doc and having a shot right about then.

Or maybe…maybe they'd be where Connor had promised, just the two of them on a cross country 'Saints' tour, sipping on lukewarm Guinness' as they drove through countryside, desert and bad weather with all of their meager personal belongings loaded into the booth of the car. And _maybe_ it'd be a used black 69' Chevy Camaro, and Connor would be driving because that was Connor's _favorite_ car.

Murphy was easily able to imagine the smile on Connor's face as they'd drive on some open road miles in between any cities or towns in that car. Connor would look good behind the wheel, he'd look sexy…and he'd look **happy**.

And on their trip, with no one else around, they could have had time to be together…

Murphy closed his eyes and opened them again slowly, painfully clearing away the useless images and fantasies from his mind, no ifs and whats and maybes were possible right then, or ever would be again and it wouldn't do any good for him to lie around day dreaming about happiness he'd never have.

Whether or not God put them in prison for them to clean house or to punish them, their lives would still be in every day, **constant** danger. Because as much as they wanted to kill the convicts surrounding them, the cons would be wanting them dead just as badly.

Murphy frowned and he was aware that Connor was still sitting up and staring at the window. He found himself craving the sound of Connor's voice all of a sudden, his twin had been too quiet for too long, it was unsettling. Murphy had no idea what was bothering Connor and Connor had no interest in talking about it either, he felt like he was in the dark, left out of something important.

Something that Connor wasn't telling him…

But Murphy knew he couldn't force it out of Connor, so he decided then that he would wait for whenever Connor was ready to talk and he just hoped that when that time came, they could actually talk.

Because they were in prison and they might find themselves separated from one another against their will at some point...

Murphy's chest hurt at the thought and he swallowed tensely,

"Is breá liom tú, tú bastaird dúr." _(I love you, you stupid bastard.)_ Murphy said just audibly, voice tight with emotion.

There was a long silence that followed and Murphy clenched his jaw after too long had passed and he expected Connor wouldn't answer, but then Connor inhaled, long and deeply,

"Aye, Murph..." his tone was quiet and tense, "…tá a fhios agat go bhfuil grá agam duit chomh maith." _(You know that I love you too.)_ Connor added in a quieter tone.

Murphy breathed easier after hearing those words and after a while his eyes drifted shut and he fell into a restless sleep...

* * *

* * *

…every night of every day I wait, I take  
I know I take but I love you more than I should  
I would stay inside you here ten million years.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -And so this is the end. Thank you to everyone who read and commented. I hope you enjoyed :)

* * *

Come on, oh my star is fading  
And I swerve out of control  
If I, if I'd only waited  
I'd not be stuck here in this hole…

* * *

It all came full circle.

And every single fear Connor had worked so hard to bury over the years surged to the forefront and tore into him with violent, cold force.

The second he'd heard those police sirens, the moment he'd known there was no way to avoid being arrested, when Murphy had kissed him in the midst of all their sinful carnage and right above the –still warm- dead body of their father…Connor had already been starting to lose it, because his worst nightmare – **literally** **worst nightmare** \- had caught up to him.

* * *

Come on, oh my star is fading  
And I see no chance of release  
And I know I'm dead on the surface  
But I am screaming underneath…

* * *

Even when medicated for the pain of his bullet wounds, Connor hadn't slept properly a single night since being arrested. Every single night in the hospital and then every night spent in the prison infirmary...and then even when they'd been moved to his and Murphy's shared –more than likely to avoid violence amongst them and the other inmates – cell, even with Murphy sleeping above him in the top bunk, close and technically safe, Connor was unable to rest.

He was exhausted from it and while he had no mirror in which he could view his appearance, he knew by the way Murphy kept giving him hurt and _concerned_ glances that he probably looked as awful as he felt.

But he couldn't put _it_ out of his mind…

…that dream/nightmare from nine fucking years ago, that had been so terrifyingly real and so painful, where Murphy had died in his arms, having been shot during their escape from _prison_.

It **still** hurt physically -his chest, his head, his heart, deep in his bones- when he thought of it even after so long.

And now, lo and behold, they were actually in prison and his nightmare was rapidly becoming true, manifesting into reality, horribly and frighteningly and Connor was powerless to _stop_ it. He couldn't change it, there was nothing he could do, he'd never wanted to believe it was possible, that it could happen but now...if that dream turned out to have been some sort of a premonition, then how could Connor ever forgive himself for not taking it seriously, because how could he live with himself when he'd _allowed_ and _enabled_ this to happen?

Especially since it would mean he'd indirectly had a hand in the death of his twin, his brother, his heart, soul, his _everything_.

It became hard to breathe whenever he thought about it and he had to steel himself against going into a frenzied panic in front of Murphy, he had to force himself not to cry, he had to hide the bouts of shaking he had at random from the stress.

And he kept thinking _if only I'd known it would become reality_ then he would have done things differently. He would never have given into God's calling which set them on the path to eventually being arrested. But then he'd think that maybe that wasn't why God gave him that premonition –if that was what it was-, he'd start to think that maybe it was because God had been testing him, to see if he'd give into what the dream had implied he felt for Murphy with that _kiss_ …and then…so maybe…maybe it was **all** Connor's fault because he'd taken so willingly, so wantonly to incest with his twin brother?

Maybe that kiss in the premonition/dream hadn't been the start of something…maybe it'd been a warning of the **end**.

No matter how he looked at it, from every horrible, painful angle, it was his fault, his mistake, his sin, and he was suffering for it, only because he was terrified for Murphy's life.

He could hardly meet Murphy's eyes anymore, he couldn't find it in himself to talk to his twin too much either and he knew he was hurting Murphy, he felt it, every second of it. But Murphy had questions and Connor could not give him answers. Could never.

Connor feared that if he opened his mouth to answer a single question, any question, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from telling Murphy his fears, about how terrified he was, telling Murphy about that fucking nightmare that had literally changed the course of their lives without Murphy even _knowing_ about it…

All because of that kiss at the end of the nightmare…where Connor had realized his love for Murphy, a non-platonic love that he had never known in himself and that revelation had led to a series of incredible experiences between them, new feelings and secret words and deeper love and genuine promises of _forever…_ and Connor felt even _guiltier_ because he honestly wouldn't want to change **any** of it.

He treasured every second, every moment spent, every _I love you_ , every smile, every breath, every touch and kiss and sigh and moan and shiver…every sin.

He could not regret it.

But he could feel guilty.

And feel like a failure.

And feel so afraid that sometimes he wanted to scream.

Presently he was sitting in his and Murphy's shared cell with his head in his hands, it'd only been two days since they'd been placed in their cell and they had not yet been introduced into gen pop for meals, showers and recreation. Connor and Murphy being in prison wasn't safe for the prisoners, but it also wasn't safe for the 'Saints'.

And that _additional_ danger to Murphy's life only made Connor feel sicker…and so angry at himself. And so helpless.

"Connor." Murphy's quiet voice made Connor lift his head from his hands and he glanced –briefly- at his twin, sitting on the floor beside Connor's lower bunk. Murphy's head was leaned back on the thin mattress as he stared up at Connor with sad, desperate blue eyes, asking without words to be let inside of Connor's thoughts, anxiety shone in his stunning blue gaze and it made Connor's stomach churn and his palms sweat, despite how cold he felt all over, all the time.

Connor sighed and rubbed his hand over his forehead, itching to lean over and kiss Murphy, craving the taste of his twin's warm mouth and smooth skin…but the desire for _that_ was always present and there was nothing Connor could do about it, and with everything he was thinking about God and punishment and consequences and temptation, he figured that maybe he shouldn't do anything about it. Ever again.

Unsurprisingly, the thought of that hurt far more than everything else.

He sighed again and ran his hand down over his face.

He knew he couldn't tell Murphy what his twin wanted to know, but as Connor felt his brother staring at him, his gorgeous brother who looked so unhappy and worried, after almost five days of rebuffing Murphy's attempts at conversation, Connor felt the need to say _something_ ,  
"I won't let anything happen to yeh', Murphy." He said with sincere gravity, his voice tight as he looked at Murphy side long. Murphy frowned and then raised an eyebrow, smiling weakly and he spoke in a hushed tone despite it being the middle of the day,

"The fuck, Conn? Yeh' think we're eight years old and this is the school playground, where you need to tell the bigger kids to pick on someone their own size?" he licked his bottom lip and snorted, "Even though you were only ever like an inch taller than me." He raised his hand with his index finger and thumb held an inch apart as he attempted to lighten the atmosphere by joking.

For the first time in days, Connor turned his head and properly looked at his twin, he just stared down at Murphy, Murphy who **didn't know** and **couldn't understand**. Connor watched as his twin stopped smiling and then leaned his head forward just enough so he could glance past Connor through the open gate of their cell. It was that time of the day when all of the inmates were outside in the yard, so every cell in the block was open but no one besides the twins and the respective guards on duty watching them were in the prison block right then.

Murphy leaned back and looked up at him again, chewing on his lower lip, his eyes asking for _something_ –possibly a kiss, or maybe even just a touch, a reassurance- and Connor tracked his eyes over his twin's face, noticing that Murphy looked like he'd lost a bit of weight.

Pale, thin, exhausted…add to that image clammy sweat and blood and pain etched into his face and Murphy was a picture out of Connor's nightmare, almost verbatim. Was it another sign? Connor swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting itself into knots and hurting, hurting and hurting.

He leaned down then on an impulse and held the side of Murphy's head, kissing the top of his hair –and it tickled his nose pleasantly- before speaking into it,

"I mean et', I'll fuckin' **die** **first**." He breathed out, words raw with emotion and honesty.

Murphy turned his head, tilted it back slightly and looked up into Connor's eyes and it was the closest their faces had been since before they'd been arrested, within breaths reach of one another.

Connor watched as Murphy's eyes trailed from his lips to his eyes and back a few times, Murphy licking his own lips in a wordless request to be kissed and Christ, Connor wanted nothing more than to ravage his twin's mouth until Murphy moaned and his lips were kiss swollen and red…

…and he was carelessly leaning in to do just that when the prison buzzer sounded. Connor blanched and sat up quickly, removing all physical contact and looking away from Murphy. The sound of the buzzer had sent a violent shiver through his body, but not because he was afraid of being caught touching or kissing –although that would probably get them separated from one another permanently-, it freaked him out _every time_ because of the dream/nightmare. It had been that exact sound that he'd heard in the dream when all of the cells had been opened and every single convict had come at them as they'd tried to escape.

Connor kept his head down, elbows on his knees and eyes on the concrete floor as he heard the scuffing of boots. When the noise became louder along with the sounds of all the inmates talking as they were ushered back to their cells, Connor turned his head to the cell bars, just as Murphy did. Two armed guards were now standing at the opening of their cell, guns ready, as the inmates started to file back into the prison, passing by their cell on the way.

Connor watched the first few prisoners go by, watched them sneer and heard them spit various threats as they were ushered along. But after a while it became uninteresting and Connor returned his head to resting in his hands, just as he had been sitting before. And Murphy remained at his side, both of them quiet and craving cigarettes and the taste of one another.

It was hard to think of what their lives would become inside that prison, and every time Connor did, it crushed him just a little more.

When the buzzer sounded again and the cells all simultaneously slammed shut, Connor once again forced himself not to cry.

* * *

* * *

Stuck on the end of this ball and chain  
And I'm on my way back down again  
Stood on the edge, tied to the noose  
Sick to the stomach…

* * *

A week later, they were released into gen pop, but not without two prison guards designated to watching over them in the yard, showers and mess hall the entire time, keeping them from the other cons and the cons from getting to them.

The twins had also finally managed to buy cigarettes from the prison commissary, thank God. Or Doc rather, who was the one funding them, with their own money of course. It was the money that had been left with their uncle Sibeal to manage when they'd first left Ireland. But it was now passed on to Doc, who sent money to them as if it were coming from him.

Presently Connor and Murphy stood side by side, just close enough that their shoulders touched, leaning against a wall in the yard, and enjoying the first breath of fresh air –and nicotine- they'd had in days. They were standing relatively far away from the other inmates and despite the guards being there, they returned every threatening look from the cons with threatening looks of their own, all the while smoking and appearing completely relaxed.

Their probably visible exhaustion notwithstanding.

Connor wasn't sleeping any better, unsurprisingly, but since he and Murphy had been able to sneak in very, _very_ quiet make out sessions in their cell at night after lights out and in between the guards passing by on their rounds, he'd been feeling a little less like pulling his hair out.

He still hadn't told Murphy anything about the dream/nightmare/premonition –Christ help him it was too confusing- , but he was trying not to be hopeless, and trying to get things at least somewhat back to normal between himself and Murphy. Because he knew that one day violence between the 'Saints' and the 'Sinners' would erupt inside the prison, it was inevitable and Connor wanted his relationship with Murphy to be as strong as possible when the shit hit the fan.

So he'd been doing his best to put all of his fears to rest again, telling himself it was ridiculous to believe he'd had some kind of future premonition –even if, subconsciously, he now fully believed he had.

But after a long enough time he hoped he'd start to believe differently.

He looked at Murphy standing beside him…and knowing just how deeply he loved his twin, Connor knew that he **had** to make himself believe that they were going to be okay, they would survive prison.

Neither one of them would die, not inside and not outside.

If they ever saw outside again.

He told himself to get over it.

 **Fuck** **the dream**.

He repeated it over and over again in his mind, especially at night when he kissed Murphy's lips and swallowed his twin's soft shaken and restrained sighs of need and pleasure.

**Fuck the god-damned dream.**

* * *

* * *

You can say what you mean  
But it won't change a thing  
I'm sick of the secrets  
Stood on the edge, tied to the noose  
And you came along and you cut me loose…

* * *

But the dream fucked him.

Another week later, completely out of the blue, a guard slipped Connor a note through the bars of the cell with a respectful nod, just after night time lock up. And with shaking hands Connor opened the note, Murphy coming over to read it over his shoulder.

It read:

**While the wicked stand confounded, call me with thy Saints surrounded.**

Murphy smirked, their connection suddenly flooded with Murphy's feelings of excitement and relief, because they both knew what the note, handed to them by a _prison guard_ , meant.

Someone on the outside, one of the Saints' allies, had people on the inside of the prison that were going to help them…

…help them to _escape_.

**Fucked.**

Connor didn't expect he'd be sleeping that night, or any other night to come.

But he vowed to himself as he squashed the note into his palm harshly, ignoring Murphy's frown, that Murphy would not die, he would not let the dream/premonition be the last page in his twin's book of life.

Connor took in a deep breath and turned his head, tilting it just so that his forehead was pressed to Murphy's temple, his nose brushing his twin's cheek as his eyes slid closed and he raised his free hand to hold Murphy's face,

"Beidh sé a bheith difriúil tar éis seo . Geallaim." _(_ _It will be different after this. I promise.)_ He said quietly, voice firm but emotional. "Ach tú agus I. I gcónaí." _(Just you and I. Always.)_ Murphy nodded, his head shifting slightly against Connor's, "Aye." Was all he said, quiet but with a smile in his voice. Connor made that promise of _always_ and he meant it. He also intended to keep it, come hell or high water, he and Murphy would get out of prison and both of them would _live_.

Not matter **what.**

* * *

…but time is on your side, it's on your side, now  
Not pushing you down, and all around  
It's no cause for concern.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I've left it open ended in case there is ever a Boondock Saints 3 (I can hope) and I will write a fourth part. However, considering where Deartháir begun, if you have no interest in reading a fourth part, you could always just assume things did in fact go full circle and the twin's died, or better yet, imagine it goes on in a different route after they escape or if they escape, etc...  
> Thanks again for reading.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fanart Drawn For Naomh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4003378) by [Lyson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyson/pseuds/Lyson)




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